#debating on if i should start posting these on ao3 too

[sleepywinchesters]

"Hey, babe, grab me another cookie?" Buck asked when Tommy stood to clear his plate.

"As you wish," Tommy replied.

Chim laughed, earning him a blank stare from both his wife and brother and law.

"The Princess Bride? As you wish? Guys?" Chim asked, when neither provided the requisite chuckle the reference required.

Tommy turned from the counter where he was poking through the cookies, trying to find the cranberry white chocolate he'd spotted earlier, and mentally claimed for dessert. Buck's oatmeal chocolate chip already set aside on a napkin.

"Neither of us have any idea what you're talking about, Chim," Buck said, after a long moment.

"The movie?"

"I think it was a book first, actually," Tommy said.

"The movie," Chim continued, ignoring him. "Dread Pirate Roberts? Princess Buttercup? Death cannot delay true love? Have you not understood all my mostly dead references?"

"That's a reference?" Buck asked.

"Maddie, my love, did you think I was just complimenting your breasts this entire time?"

Buck made a face.

"Yes, I did," Maddie said, starting to look a little offended.

"And they are perfect, of course. I'd show you if we didn't have company, however-"

"Also a reference to, what was it?" Maddie said.

"The Princess Bride," Tommy said. "ROUSes? Six fingered man? You killed my father prepare to die? None of this is ringing a bell?"

"No," Buck said.

"Howie, how have they never seen The Princess Bride."

"That is a question I have been asking myself for 5 years, Tommy. I still haven't gotten an answer."

"Evan, what were you even doing in high school if not watching these classics?" Tommy asked, returning to the table, cookie in hand.

"Having sex."

"Maddie?"

"Keeping my little brother from accidentally killing himself," she said.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Tommy said around a mouthful of cookie. "I quite like him."

"Love you too, babe," Buck said, with a soft smile.

"Well, before you two get started on that, we have to rectify this frankly atrocious gap in your pop culture knowledge."

It was not the first time Buck and Maddie had been subjected to an impromptu movie night, as their friends discovered gaps. Buck automatically turned to Tommy, eyes wide.

"Oh don't give me that look, Evan. It's movie time," Tommy said with a smile. He reached across the table to take Buck's hand. "I don't know if I'd go so far as to call it atrocious, but you'll love it. I promise."

Buck groaned, Maddie echoed him.

"Fine," Maddie said. "But we aren't sharing the rest of the cookies."

@samwellwinchesterthebrave @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1

@desert--moonchild @bibuckkinard @buddiekinard @judesstfrancis @ohlookitsthearkhamknight @rdng1230 @diazsdimples As always let me know if you want added/removed

[wolfjackle-creates]

I took part in the Demon Twins Who Wrote That game over on the Haunting Heroes DPxDC server and author reveals were today. So now I can finally post the fic I wrote for it!

No Place Left to Hide

Danny is on the run. He wants nothing more than to see his family, but they're out of his reach at the moment. Then he sees a magazine article and accompanying photo of Damian Wayne. His long-lost twin brother. Maybe he does have some family he can check on. Just to spy from a distance, of course. Getting too close would only make his situation worse. But when he gets caught in the halls of Gotham Academy, he might not have a choice in the matter.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: T

Warning: a trans Danny mentions his deadname to Damian

-----

Danny stared down at Gotham Academy. Damian was just inside those walls. All he’d have to do was go intangible and he’d be able to see his twin for the first time in eight years. The thought made his core ache, a throbbing that echoed in his still-healing injuries.

He was descending before ever consciously making the choice to actually see his brother.

It was stupid. What if Damian caught him? Told Talia, or worse, Ra’s? Then it wouldn’t just be the Fentons and the GIW after him, but also the League of Assassins. And he was already injured.

But he had to see. He hadn’t seen Damian in years. Had lived half his life without his twin at this point.

He should leave. He shouldn’t be here at all.

A moment later, he’d phased through the roof and floated invisibly in the middle of a locker-lined hallway. He allowed gravity to once more take control of him and his feet settled on the linoleum floor.

Now, to find Damian. Just to see him, make sure he was safe. The rest of his family were out of his reach; the GIW was monitoring them too closely for Danny to risk visiting. Or even just check in from a distance. And Danny’s core was demanding he check on his loved ones.

He’d been debating risking a visit to them regardless of the risk when he saw the magazine article: Wayne Boy Volunteers at Animal Shelter. The attached picture brought a smile to Danny’s face. One of the few genuine smiles he’d worn since being forced on the run. In it, Damian was glaring at the camera, but his arms were gentle as he cradled a puppy. Behind him stood Bruce Wayne, grinning widely. In the article, Bruce talked about how proud he was of his youngest son and his big heart. Back when they’d been with the League, Danny had been the only one to know of Damian’s gentleness.

Reading the article, seeing the picture had healed something in Danny. Damian had gotten out. Something he’d thought impossible when he left half a lifetime ago.

And now he was here to confirm it. To check on the twin he’d left behind. Make sure he was healthy and safe and happy. He’d never seen Damian be any of those things before. Not beyond fleeting moments carved out in secret.

Though… He looked around the empty hallway and bit his lip. The school was huge and he had no idea what Damian’s schedule looked like. Where should he even start?

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Danny instinctively moved to the side to let whomever it was pass.

Only to feel a hand grip his shoulder.

Danny just barely kept himself from twisting and throwing a punch at the person. He wasn’t able stop himself from jumping a foot in the air, though. And if he hung in the air a bit longer than gravity should’ve allowed, well, Danny could only hope the person gripping his arm didn’t notice.

“Wayne, why are you in the hallways out of uniform rather than in your class?”

Danny blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. This guy couldn’t actually have mistaken him for Damian, could he have? They weren’t identical twins. They didn’t even have the same skin tone!

Though Danny did suppose he’d gotten more tanned lately. Being on the run meant he was spending much more time outside than normal and he always did tan pretty well, one thing to thank Talia for he supposed.

The hall monitor rolled his eyes. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again. Should he disappear? But what if the teacher reported it? Would the GIW come to investigate? Would Damian, growing up around Lazarus pits, ping on their sensors?

He stayed put and he stayed silent.

The teacher sniffed and pulled out his phone. After tapping a bit, he announced, “History with Mr. Binder. I’ll accompany you back and we will be contacting your father about this behavior.”

He grabbed Danny’s shoulder again and marched him through the hallways. Danny allowed it, not sure what else to do. And still so desperate to see his brother.

When they reached what must be Damian’s classroom, the man knocked once, then pushed the door open.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Binder. But I found one of your students wandering the hallways.”

Danny had barely glanced inside the classroom when his eyes fell on Damian. Everything else fell away. He didn’t see the other kids, didn’t hear Mr. Binder’s response. All he could see was Damian.

Even sitting, it was clear Damian was taller than Danny. His hair was shorter, his muscles more defined. And he was holding his pencil like it was a dagger he was going to throw through Danny’s throat.

Danny grinned and, speaking a language he’d barely used in eight years, said, “It’s been a long time, brother.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed further, but he kept his posture relaxed. Except for his grip on his pencil. “You’re no brother of mine. Who are you?” asked Damian, also in Arabic.

Danny clutched his hands to his chest. “How could you not remember me?” he wailed. But he couldn’t keep up the feigned offense for more than a second and grinned. “Though, I suppose you did used to call me sister. A lot’s changed in eight years, brother. Liat died in the league; I go by Danny now.”

At Danny’s mention of his deadname, the pencil fell from Damian’s hands. The sound of it hitting the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room. But when Damian spoke, his voice was steady. “Prove it.”

Danny inclined his head in a mock bow. “If you insist,” he said, switching to English. “The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house, all that cold, cold, wet day.”

Damian stood, sending his chair tumbling to the floor. “Enough!”

Danny obediently stopped reciting and grinned at Damian.

Damian hated The Cat in the Hat. Danny had heard it when he’d been sent to a daycare on one of his first missions to slip a child a mild poison that’d leave her sick for a few days and a letter for her father, a man who’d been planning to betray the league.

Danny had fallen in love. He’d smuggled the book out with him when he’d finished his task. The idea of a cat in a hat coming to the league and causing a bit of destruction helped him withstand the endless trainings and trials. Besides, their grandfather and mother deserved it. And Damian just didn’t see.

Though now Danny realized that was because Damian had never been allowed to glimpse what life could be outside the League. Danny, on the other hand, had been trained in spying and infiltration. Which meant he had to understand how kids his age worked and thought and acted. So he had to be around them with some regularity.

What he’d learned was that he wanted their lives, not his own. A lesson he tried, and failed, to teach Damian.

Before either Damian or Danny could think of something to say to each other, the History teacher cleared his throat. “Damian, what is going on here?”

Damian immediately stood to attention, just as Talia had taught him. “I apologize for the intrusion. My… brother came for an unexpected visit. May we be excused to the office so I can call my father?”

“I wasn’t aware you had another sibling your age,” said the teacher with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s from my mother’s side,” said Damian.

Danny hummed. True enough, he supposed. They did share a biological mother. Even if Danny refused to ever acknowledge her as such ever again.

He really didn’t have much luck with mother figures, did he? Maddie had turned out to be just as bad as Talia.

In the end, the teacher really didn’t have a choice but to let them go. Though the hall monitor who had caught Danny insisted on accompanying them all the way to the office despite Damian’s protests that he knew the way.

Danny hid a scowl at the situation. He’d had no intentions of meeting Bruce Wayne and now it looked like he’d either have to reveal his powers and run or meet his biological father. His core ached at the thought of leaving Damian, though. And he couldn’t risk letting Ra’s or Talia find out about his powers.

He ignored the longing he felt at the potential for a true family, for a father who loved him unconditionally. He was zero for three on parental figures. No way was he going to try for a fourth.

“How are you here?” asked Damian in Arabic as they walked.

Danny shrugged and answered in the same language. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be. Saw you in a magazine and figured I’d check in.”

“In a—” Damian cut off with a noise of frustration. “I thought you were dead. Did Mother put you in a pit?”

“As far as I’m aware, both Talia and Ra’s are also under the impression I am dead-dead. Though now that we’ve had contact, I don’t suppose that will last much longer.”

“How did you survive?” demanded Damian.

Danny stared ahead and bit his lip. After a moment, he said, “I did try and take you with me, you know. You were the only thing I regretted leaving behind.”

The resulting silence lasted until they reached the front office. Danny didn’t know how to break it.

They were instructed to sit in plush seats facing the office staff where they could be observed as Damian spoke to their his dad.

Damian pulled out his phone, but before he dialed, asked, “How did you get caught? Have you forgotten all your training?”

Danny didn’t bother to try and hide his blush. He’d been relying on his powers and must’ve let his invisibility drop by mistake. It was just…he’d been on the run for almost two months now. He was hungry and tired and in pain. If Jazz knew, she’d scold him for neglecting himself. He should’ve expected something like this would happen the moment he got distracted.

But how to explain that without explaining everything? “The last few months have been hard,” he settled on. “Due to certain circumstances, I am no longer welcome at the place I’ve called home the last few years and had to leave suddenly. Thus, I am not currently at optimal physical health. I grew careless.”

Damian frowned and looked down at his phone. Rather than answer, he opened his contacts and dialed the one labeled “Father.”

Danny probably should be more cautious. He probably shouldn’t trust Damian. But this was his brother. The only good thing from his early childhood.

And he was so, so tired.

Danny let himself slump against Damian’s side. Damian tensed for just a moment before he relaxed.

“Hello, Father,” said Damian into the phone.

Danny let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Damian’s side of the conversation.

“No. I am well. But there’s been a situation.”

Danny snorted at that description, and Damian pinched his thigh.

“It is not something I can explain over the phone, but I need to be picked up from school. Immediately.”

Bruce Wayne’s voice was just indistinct enough that Danny had a hard time understanding it, though he could hear the worry in it.

“It is a family matter. You will wish to be here quickly as there is a strong possibility we will not have the chance again.”

“Think I’m that good, do you?” huffed Danny under his breath. Damian just pinched him again with a tut.

“Could you stop and pick up a smoothie on your way in? With extra protein powder?”

Danny’s breath caught. Was Damian asking on his behalf? It’d been so long since he’d been around Jazz or his friends. He hadn’t had anyone look out for his wellbeing in months.

He screwed his eyes tight against the burning and focused on keeping his breathing steady.

The rest of Damian’s conversation consisted of stilted goodbyes and promises of explanations once they got home.

Despite his apprehension at meeting Bruce, sitting in a comfortable chair leaning against his brother after months of being on edge was enough for him to slip into a shallow doze. Damian would keep him safe. Whatever disagreements they’d had as children, that had been a constant. Danny was vaguely aware of the office staff talking and making noises. Damian’s shoulder shifted slightly as he did something on his phone. But Danny was more asleep than awake.

Until Damian tensed and shrugged his shoulder. “Father’s here,” he whispered in Arabic.

Danny was instantly awake, though he kept his posture relaxed. Bruce Wayne was someone who had attracted the attention of Talia al Ghul. Whatever face he presented to the public had to be a lie, and Danny didn’t know what to expect from him.

One thing Danny did know, though, was that he refused to go back to who he’d been with the league. The formality was so exhausting. And his very core rebelled at the thought of going back to a life of violence and suffering. He’d left to be a regular American kid, and that was what Bruce Wayne would meet.

Maybe his second death made that life impossible, but while he still had breath in his lungs and a heart that beat, he was going to cling to the dream.

So, rather than follow Damian’s lead and sit up straight and formal, Danny stretched his arms up and yawned loudly. “Ope, sorry for falling asleep there on you Dami,” he said in his strongest Midwestern accent.

Damian shot him a look, but didn’t respond. Still, when he stood, he offered a hand to Danny to help him up as well.

Danny grinned as he took it. Then he took a fortifying breath and turned to face Bruce Wayne, his biological father.

Bruce stared at him, face blank. His eyes lingered on where Danny still clasped Damian’s hand. To his disappointment, Damian let go at the look.

The stern look only lasted seconds before Bruce smiled broadly and his body language became relaxed and open. “You must be a friend of Damian’s! I take it this is for you?” He held out the smoothie for Danny.

Danny hesitated. His stomach ached with hunger, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. This was his biological father.

Damian misunderstood his hesitation and grabbed the smoothie himself. He took a deep swallow and in Arabic said, “It is safe, brother.”

If Danny hadn’t been staring so intently at Bruce, he would’ve missed the small twitch the man made at the word “brother.”

Danny grabbed the smoothie and took a long drink. He couldn’t stop the quiet sigh at the taste. It was the best thing he’d had in weeks. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m parked right out front! Let me just sign you both out and we can be on our way.”

“Oh, you just have to sign out Damian. I’m not a student.”

“Well, I suppose that explains the lack of a uniform! How do you know my Damian, then?”

“Father,” hissed Damian. In Arabic he said, “I will explain what I can in the car as I promised.”

Danny just took another sip of his smoothie and remained silent.

Bruce’s eyes flicked to Danny, gaze sharp. But he remained relaxed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Of course, of course.”

Damian glared at him as he smoothed his hair back down.

Bruce laughed with the office staff and signed the requisite paperwork, then the three were making their way outside.

The car out front was a fancy sports car. Danny hesitated a moment before entering. He glanced down in both directions, but knew a school like this would have too many cameras to hide from.

And now that he had Damian in front of him, he was certain his core would protest if he tried to leave.

Damian made a sharp gesture to him, ordering him into the car. Danny slid in. The door shut behind him. He gripped his smoothie with both hands to mask their shaking and took another sip.

“Father,” started Damian. “This is…” he broke off.

“Yes?” prompted Bruce after a moment.

“This is my twin brother, Danny. Your other biological son.”

Bruce froze. Danny didn’t even think he was breathing. One hand rested on the gear stick where he’d been planning to put the car in drive, the other dug into his own leg.

“What.” Bruce’s voice was hard and flat, not a hint of the jovial man from the office.

“In his defense,” said Danny. “He thought I was his twin sister. And that I was dead.”

Bruce’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths. “Your name is Danny?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the p. “Chose it myself six years ago.”

“It’s…a good name.”

“Thanks! It was my dad’s dad’s name.”

“Your dad?” asked Bruce.

Danny hummed. “Yeah. Got myself adopted after I ran away from Talia and Ra’s. But that living situation fell through a few months ago.” Which, really, understatement of the century, but Danny wasn’t going to go into it. “So I had to leave. Thought I’d check up on Damian. Mind if I come over to visit after Damian gets out of school for the next few days? I’ve got a hotel room lined up in the city,” he lied. Squatting was way easier when you were half-ghost.

Damian broke in at that. “You will be staying with us, not in some hotel,” he spat the last word. “And not just for a few days. Live with us.”

“Can’t stay more than a few days, I’m afraid.” The GIW or his parents would definitely find him if he did. “But if no one minds, I won’t turn down a room if you’ve got a spare.”

“Father’s house is large,” said Damian. “There are plenty of spare rooms.”

“Damian is right,” said Bruce. “I insist you stay with us. We can discuss more over lunch when we’re comfortable.”

Danny shrugged. “If you insist.” He’d disappear, of course. Too risky to stay and lead the GIW to Damian when he still wasn’t sure of the connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus pits.

Bruce let out a long sigh and put the car in gear. “I do,” was all he said.

Danny watched the scenery go by, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him.

After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, Bruce spoke again. “I am glad to meet you, Danny. I’m happy you came to Gotham.”

Danny hummed. He supposed time would tell if any of them would come to regret it.

-----

Hope you enjoy!

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 9

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 9 - Why Do You Keep Saying No?

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Smoking. Slow Burn. Murder. Depictions of Flaying. Implied Rape. Mentions of Date Rape Drugs. Strangulation. Restraints. Mental Institutions. PTSD. Childhood trauma. Psychological Trauma. Implied references to child abuse. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.6k (and I thought the last one was long)

AO3

Chapter 8

Two weeks have gone by since Indio and you turn inward, boxing up your feelings with a neat bow to return to status quo but you’re sure Prentiss wasn’t buying it. Thankfully, she was too busy with section chief duties to really bother you. Instead, you branch out and integrate further with the team at work. JJ found out you liked to run and meets you at Quantico a couple of days during the week once the kids were off to school to do it together. She took you around different parts of the campus to better familiarize the area. You and Rossi spend a lot of time talking about the history of profiling and the integration of its use into modern investigation techniques in his office as the two of you knock out paperwork. You also have a spirited conversation on why the Bears suck and where you were when the Cubs won the World Series. You, Tara, and Rebecca finally have a night together which you felt comfortable doing. You went to a nice Italian restaurant, knocked back a bottle of wine, and shared the basics on how you and Rebecca met, played pretend girlfriends as vengeance, and all about the HSC she was curious about.

You almost felt normal. But since you didn’t know what that was, perhaps you were just being human.

You and Brian kept in touch by phone and text since you weren’t needed face to face yet. He reminds you of your upcoming psych check in tomorrow which you send back an eyeroll emoji to express your disinterest but of course you would go. It was mandatory for as long as you said yes to joining the CIA.

Your side project with Penelope was also set up as FlamePit23 came up empty with any identifiable information. She ran an algorithm for most used words, phrases, and idiosyncrasies to assist the team pretend to be this woman. You, on the other hand, convinced Prentiss that it should be you posting as this user when the three of you talked about this in Garcia’s lair.

“It should be me,” you urged. “If this some how works and there’s a meeting, it needs to be a non-BAU related agent since Bailey outed you all at that fucking press conference. You know he’s looking into you if not already since the news of the shipping container broke.”

“Have you done this sorta thing before?” Penelope asks with that curious need that went beyond knowing a skillset. She wanted to know you!

You shake your head back and forth in debate before nodding. “Yeah.”

Her eyes widen and she squeals reading between the lines. “Are you a spy like Emily?!”

You lean back with a huff. “I can neither confirm nor deny this.”

“Oh my god! You’re a spy!” She points at you with excitement and then claps.

“I’m not not saying I’m a spy …”

Emily holds her hands up to stop the back and forth. “Regardless of how Whitlock came to possess these abilities, I’m authorizing her to make contact. But,” she looks sternly at the two of you, “you do this together and inform me the minute Sicarius takes the bait. Understood?”

“Yes Ma-!” Garcia was starting to say but the glare from Prentiss forced her to clamp her mouth shut.

You didn’t care. “Yes, Ma’am.”

And you so loved how Prentiss’ glare turned into a flustered eyeroll. Penelope noticed too.

There was also the case of Penelope blabbing out about your military training that piqued Luke’s interest since he was a former Army Ranger. Since there is downtime, he offers a chance to cut loose with you and spar instead of just beating on the heavy bag. With how you’re feeling, this was exactly what you needed. Not the psychiatrist. Good old fashion physical exertion with an opponent.

What you didn’t realize as you were getting ready in the locker room, is that the entire team, sans Prentiss, are going to be spectators … and there were bets. They knew Luke’s background and since yours was up in the air with how much military training you had coupled with what you learned from the CIA as a special agent, there was debate on who had the edge. Odds were 3/2 in Luke’s favor, but the team was split. JJ and Rossi bet on Luke and Penelope and Tara on you.

The four of them put out folding chairs at a safe distance from the blue sparring mat in a semi-circle, though JJ has her turned around to sit backwards on it for her own awkward comfort. There were other agents using the bags and practicing maneuvers scattered about the rest of the room, uncaring what the BAU was up to. Luke was first to arrive from the locker room with the appropriate red headgear and MMA boxing gloves, a black tank and shorts. You both decided on bare feet. He pats his chest and looks to JJ as she starts whooping. Rossi was amused.

Penelope was animatedly giving the double thumbs down as Tara booed. “You’re going down, Alvez! Whitlock’s gonna kick your ass!”

“Bullshit! My boy’s gonna drop her in five!” jeers JJ.

“Booooooo! A pox upon Alvez!” Penelope fires back.

“What in the hell’s going on here?” Prentiss’s voice carries over the trash talk. “I go looking for my team to check on deadlines and you’re all nowhere to be found. I only had this clue.”

She holds up a hot pink stinky note with the elegant scrawl of Penelope’s that said:

GYM AT 1200 MY LOVELIES

It was signed with a heart.

“Well,” she stood there with no answer and thrusts the note further, curling her other arm around her stomach. “Would someone like to explain why you’re all not at your desks working and Luke’s dressed like that?”

“Ah, just having some fun, Prentiss,” says Luke, knocking his gloves together. “Blowing off some steam.”

“And to be fair, you weren’t around to give a heads up,” explains Tara.

“You weren’t in your office,” says Rossi with a shrug. “We did look.”

“You all have access to my calendar to know where I’m at,” she shoots back while crumpling the sticky note, making Penelope pout. “Seriously. You all have better things to do-“

“Better things like what?” you ask, having joined the group after silently watching Prentiss berate the team. You watch as she turns around, her disappointing eyes switch immediately to surprise.

Like Luke, you wore the same red headgear and gloves but had your hair tied back in a ponytail. You also play with the mouthguard dangling from between your teeth as brown eyes look you up and down. You wore a blue sports bra and matching cross training shorts that showed off your lean, muscular build. The section chief never had a chance to see what was under all that clothing, unlike JJ who you ran with.

Rossi smirks and makes an educated announcement. “I think Emily’s in.”

“I, uh …” She has to tear her eyes away and looks at the expectant group. “Fine.”

You wonder why she gave in so quickly but shrug it off. “Hold on.”

Realizing Prentiss didn’t have a seat, you jog over to get another chair and set it up for her. Tara and Penelope raise a brow towards one another with interest. JJ commends the chivalry. “How nice of her to treat the boss right.”

“Oh, just shut it, Jareau.” But there wasn’t any bite in the words as she sat down and crossed her arms.

She ends up by Penelope who rocks side to side on her chair in thought before leaning towards Emily. “So, are you in on the betting since you’re all interested in the fight now?”

Penelope’s way of saying she was well aware of how quickly Emily’s tune changed after seeing Whitlock in different clothes without actually saying it. At least she wasn’t poking fun of her for it … yet.

Oh, what the hell, she thinks and nods. “What’re the odds?”

“3 to 2 favoring Luke. Me and Tara are on team cutie. Rossi and JJ are with Luke.”

Prentiss watches you and Luke discuss the terms of the fight. He had a height advantage and Ranger training, but you had similar training too. She had her suspicions that special forces were in charge of your training considering your secretive background. You clearly put forth effort into keeping in shape due to the demands of being a CIA operative, much to her wandering eyes delight. And since you were not not a spy, she was certain you had more in your bag of tricks than even those betting in your favor knew.

“Put me down for Whitlock,” she says without tearing her eyes away from you.

Penelope has to fight so hard that it wasn’t the only thing that Emily wants to go down on with Whitlock, but she behaves! She deserves a medal for that even though she should say it because Emily crumpled the cute note she wrote the team!

You and Luke tap gloves and both take three feet backwards to provide enough room to start. He put himself in a standard krav maga stance, relaxing his posture with a foot forward and his hands before him with his fingers spread out.

You just stood there, studying him, with your chin tucked down and standing similar to Luke. You were defensive without him easily reading you, which is what you want. You had been strenuously trained how to take down men like him in the field, and not just by military means alone. This would not be a flashy fight, but a fight to end quickly and decisively.

When you lock eyes you both nod as the agreed upon way to start the fight, and it begins.

Luke opens up offensively with straight punches that you anticipated. You duck down and back sweep Luke off his feet.

Rossi blinks in disbelief at what just happened in a few seconds. JJ looks the same but was able to verbalize what they both saw. “Holy crap!”

“She went all Karate Kid on him!” cheers Penelope but then has to admonish you playfully in the next breath. “But do not put him in a body bag! You are not Johnny Lawrence!”

Your brain was aware of the audience but as they were not a threat, it was background noise. The focus was Luke rolling off his back to stand up, which you allow. Now he knows you’re quick and would adjust his strategy, as would you. He lunges forward with an arm as a feint, but the true attack comes when he raises his dominant leg to kick into your side. You strike your forearm down for the block and with a focused yell, you thrust your palm forward and connect against Luke’s chest. You hear him wheeze at the sudden loss of air you force out of him as he goes down.

“What sort of training did you say she had again, Pen?” asks Tara. “Not that I’m upset that we’re winning so far, but this is pretty intense.”

“Just military.” She shrugs. “Nothing specific.”

“Looks like a bit of Marine training, maybe,” Rossi says offhandedly, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. Having served himself, he could see traces of the training he had but he could also tell you were drawing off other techniques in those few moves.

Prentiss wasn’t so sure that the military training you shared was what you were relying on either. You were anticipating Luke far too easily which indicated a more stringent martial arts training like Muay Thai or Jeet Kune Do. You were extraordinary to watch in these few moments with how you took command of the fight. You were stunning.

“Luke!” JJ shouts. “Stop falling on your ass and do something!”

His answer is a cough as you put more distance between him, allowing him a chance to get up. This is not how you would normally be out in the field, but this was a friendly fight and would give him one more chance. You watch as he puts an elbow to the mat to swing his body around and get to his feet. He sees you standing at attention, studying him.

“Okay …” he starts to say before taking several deep breaths while rubbing his chest. “That hurt.”

You remain impassive as you visualize dozens of scenarios that Luke could take. As he starts to come at you again, you block his punches with forearms, moving him around the mat with quick feet. You set him up how you want and fire back with two punches and a hook that he blocks but he misses how your heel turns at him, setting Luke up for a spin kick that connects right in his gut. Your feint works.

“Luke get up!” Which JJ does herself. She hopes that her voice will give him some strength to turn this fight around. Rossi is left shaking his head in amazement.

“Holy shit, girl!” Tara howls while clapping.

“She hasn’t won yet!” reminds Penelope.

“Eh, she will.” Emily points to you as you rush to the ground to hook one of Luke’s arms under yours and his head under the other. “Luke fell into her trap. She was playing him the whole time.”

With a firm grip of his tank, you tuck your head against his shoulder and plant your legs wide to counter any leverage he may have.

Luke struggles to find any give to overpower you. He tries to push up with his legs but is unable to flip over. Next, he tries moving his shoulders but with how you are able to control his upper torso, there was no momentum to even start. He grunts and pants, trying in vain to get off his back or get his legs around you, but your head was safely tucked in against his shoulder from any advantage he could find. As a last resort, he flails his arms to try and get a grip on anything, but your head was just out of reach as intended.

Rossi sighs, throwing his hands up. “I think we’re gonna have to call it.”

JJ sits down with a strangling groan as Penelope rises to her feet and applauds, cheering your name. “I knew you’d win!”

With controlling breaths, you confirm the victory with Luke. “You yield?”

He strains against your hold one last time before going limp. “Yes!”

And just like that, you untangle your arms free from him and hop up to stand. He looks up at you while catching his breath, arms flopping over his body to work out the tension your hold causes. “What the fuck, Whitlock...” His chuckle betrays his amusement despite his words sounding vicious. “I never had a chance, did I?”

“Kinda the idea to be underestimated.” You grin, offering a hand to help him to his feet. “Maybe you’ll have better luck next time.”

“Oh, you know it! Now I know what to expect.” He laughs, patting you on the back before you half hug each other with respect.

As Rossi and JJ were taking out money to settle the bet with Garcia, Tara and Emily were heading over to you. Tara playfully pushes your shoulder with a big smile. “That was impressive.”

You shrug and start feeling self-conscious. Prior to the CIA you would have bragged about your win and talked trash at Luke at how easily you won, but you have learned humility. “Thank you.”

Prentiss is surprised by the lack of bravado and found it quite interesting. This was a perfect time for playfully belittling Alvez losing after a commanding victory. But no. You were displaying genuine gratitude for showcasing your abilities.

One thing’s for sure, you can handle yourself in the field far better than I initially thought, she muses. “You had a lot more than military training.”

You blush and bring up a gloved hand, bringing your index finger and thumb together. “Maybe a wee bit.”

“Luke’s on to something, though,” she says, and you quirk a brow in question. “Think you can find time and pass some of this knowledge down to the team?”

“Uh …” you start rubbing the back of your neck at the unspoken compliment from Prentiss. It took you off guard and have to force your eyes to tear away from the intensely expecting brown ones that were fixed on you. You look around at the team and gently nod. “Sure. I, uh, I can do that.”

“Ladies!” Everyone’s attention was on Garcia now. “We have enough money to cover girls’ night tomorrow thanks to our CIA cutie de-mol-li-shing Lukey there!”

JJ comes up and punches her partner in the arm which makes him yelp. “Lucky I get drinks outta this but you!” She points at you. “You, me and darts.”

Prentiss smiles at the challenge. “My money’s on JJ then.”

You look quickly at Prentiss as you need to clarify something since the section chief hasn’t been acting like a sore loser. “Does that mean you bet on me?”

“I did,” she confirms with a nod. She knew who was going to win the moment you stepped into view, and it wasn’t just because she was caught off guard by how attractive you were. “I know a winner when I see one.”

“And this winner is finally going to go out with us!” Penelope joins the group flashing the wad of bills in the air in front of your face. “You flaked out last time.” Your eyes start to widen with apology, and she juts her lower jaw out petulantly. “No! You can’t bail on us again!”

“I’m sorry. I got CIA shit I need to deal with again,” The lie easily rolls off your tongue and the team accepts it. The only difference is that Prentiss was here this time when you said it and she was not convinced. She kept her poker face as you continue. “Full time consultant for the FBI still needs to go home and take care of things.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! You won us mad money to blow at the bar! You deserve to partake.” Tara says, trying to stroke your ego and win you over.

You half grin and shake your head no. “I’m really sorry. But hey! Think about it this way, there’s more food and drinks for all of you.” It was difficult for the BAU ladies to be upset with you for too long with that point. “I’ll even throw in another fifty as compensation for my absence.”

“Deal!” JJ swoops in to answer so fast to seal the deal.

“Good, now, I’m off to shower.” You look cheekily at Prentiss. “Think our boss might want us back working soon.”

“Astute observation, Whitlock. Fun’s over. Back to work. Except for you, Alvez.” She waves him off with a cringe. “You smell.”

The group laughs and he looks hurt. “What? And she doesn’t?”

Prentiss takes a hard look at you, and you fight a tremble that wants to erupt under her examination. Your skin was barely flushed with exertion, hair unkempt and loosened from the fight. There was just a small perceptible sheen of perspiration on your body or clothing, unlike Luke who had to work hard at trying to get at you or escape your hold. “Not that I can tell.”

Rossi whistles. “Take a hint, Luke, and go before you put the other foot in your mouth.”

Back at Langley, Brian was in his office between meetings working on getting his five recruits together for the holidays that were quickly approaching. It was going to be tricky as the other four were on various assignments around the world for the CIA just like you before Wilson roped you onto the BAU. He had to start pulling strings now and organize the right moves to get everyone stateside that would not compromise mission integrity. The other four recruits were not deep into a long-term op as you were so it would be easier, but not guaranteed. If he could pull it off, he knew it would make everyone happy, especially you and his wife. He started to think about this since mentioning it last month with you and instead of waiting until after your BAU assignment, he was trying to make it an earlier surprise.

Barton: Hey, I know you said not to bother you but there’s an Emily Prentiss from the FBI on the phone that wants to talk to you.

Eliza Barton was his executive assistant, and she knew that if Whitlock’s new boss wanted to talk, that she could inform Brian as she did just now over chat. Of course, he had to wonder what you did to prompt this call.

Korogoth: Go ahead and transfer the call.

His phone immediately rings and picks up. “I’m actually surprised it took you this long to call me. So … “ he leans back in his chair, “what did she do?”

“I’m sorry?” He heard Prentiss’ confusion.

“Whitlock. What did she do to prompt this phone call?” he clarifies.

“Oh. Nothing. She’s been a great addition to the BAU.”

That caught him by surprise, He wasn’t able to formulate a response because when people called him about you, it was due to your rough around the edge’s smartass remarks or skirting around orders that were still within bounds but questionable. Hearing a compliment was unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’m pleased she’s acclimating herself to your team. Which makes me wonder what I can do for you.” The only other potential issue he could surmise was the stipend, but the money was easily allocated to the BAU budget. There were no issues with finance that he was aware of.

“The team and I want to know if you can reschedule her CIA commitments this weekend so she can join us for some socialization. Obviously matters of national security we understand.”

He had to think really hard what CIA commitments you had which ended up being none. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

There was a pause before Prentiss spoke up again. “She said last weekend and this she couldn’t come out to girls’ night because she’s unable to take care of all of her CIA duties being a full-time consultant.”

He rolls his head back in understanding. You were lying to the BAU because you didn’t want to hurt their feelings and used your non-existent CIA duties as a cover because no one would be able to verify it. You just didn’t know how tenacious Prentiss was when she put her mind to a task and clearly the section chief wanted you there with the team. It actually warmed his heart that the team took to you in this way and were disappointed you couldn’t be with them like this. And here he was worried that your gruff, humorous demeanor would rub your teammates the wrong way and cause friction as it had done with teams in the past. Which it did in the beginning, but Brian wasn’t aware of your fight with Prentiss yet.

“I think there’s been some mistake. She doesn’t have anything going on that requires her attention.” Yes, he was going to throw you under the bus and force you to be social. And yes, he warned you to be careful since you hadn’t been integrated into these situations in a long time, but this might do you some good as long as you kept the majority of your history quiet.

“None?” Prentiss sounded confused.

“Yeah, none. Her only obligation is to the BAU.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

He smiles against the receiver knowing that her mind was already working out a solution to your behavior. “Yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

“Nonsense. You can call me anytime regarding Whitlock if need be.”

“I appreciate that. Though that doesn’t surprise me.”

He furrows his brow. “Why’s that?”

“Oh, she let me know you recruited her.”

His chest tightened with surprise. You barely tell anyone that unless it was with good reason. What reason did you have to tell Prentiss this? “She did?”

“Yeah. She couldn’t go into the details, but it came up during an off the clock meeting.”

Since when did you have off-the-clock meetings? Brian was baffled by this odd course of events. “Well, she must trust you to offer that up. And considering we worked together once upon a time, Whitlock’s on target with that.”

“Isn’t that nice of you to say. But I do need to be going now. Too much work and not enough time to do it.”

He chuckles. “Same here. Oh, but before you go?”

“Yes?”

“It was complete bullshit that Bailey got the job, and you didn’t.” When he learned that Douglas Bailey was tapped to take the deputy director’s role instead of Prentiss, who made the short list, he was furious. He had to do his own reorganization of the CIA executive roles, but he put qualified candidates in place when the org chart was settled and not some bureaucratic tools of upper management that cared only for budget cuts, dissolving departments, and a whole lot of ass kissing. Yeah, there was a new normal after the pandemic, but there were ways to be efficient without favoritism.

There was a lengthy pause on the other end, but Brian was patient enough to wait it out.

“Thanks, Brian. That means a lot.” Another pause. “Actually, before we hang up, can I ask a favor?”

Friday night came and you are curled up on the couch reading Nona the Ninth with Metallica blasting through the surround sound at the safehouse. The condo was located in the Penn Quarter, one of many units in the seven-story complex. The unit you are occupying is available on loan to CIA agents that were displaced and needed short-term lodgings. This was never used for CIs* or anyone under arrest due to the high foot traffic in the area. Operatives had ample places to eat whether they were allowed to roam about or ordered delivery only. Public transportation was easily accessible to go anywhere in the DC area. Best part is you have a parking spot in the garage, a hot commodity in a city.

The condo was modern in design with white walls, hardwood floors and track lighting shaped in a V overhead. There were white chairs and a glass table close to the kitchen but left enough area open to walk through. The couch matched the design of the chairs with comfortable throw pillows, one that was cradling your head against the couch arm. A large screen TV was mounted on the wall to the left of the patio doors that led to a cramped balcony, but the view of the gardens below was spectacular. Generic pictures and fake plants rounded out the area to attempt hominess.

Living here for the last month has been nice but you didn’t commit to making it your own yet as you were still trying to come to terms with being in one place for an extended period of time in the states. As you are winding down from the day at Quantico, you treat yourself to a tumbler of Moscato. There are wine glasses, but you are not picky about what glass you use, just what is in easy reach. It is the perfect evening that you’re comfortable with … until there was a knock at the door.

You put the book down against your stomach with a concerning face. There was nothing on your agenda tonight so no one from the CIA should be here. Everything had to go through Brian for approval to set up a meeting here and if it was him stopping by, he would have texted you.

So, what the fuck?

You swing your legs off the couch to sit up, setting the book on the oval glass coffee table. You pad over barefoot to the open kitchen and grab your Glock that is holstered on the brown speckled quartz countertop. You pull it free and remove the safety, leaving the holster behind as you approach the foyer when another knock occurs. With your gun pointed parallel to the door, you lean forward to look through the peephole and see … Emily Prentiss?

What is she doing here and how the fuck did she find me?

You unlock the door and slowly open it unable to smooth your features away to look any less confused. Emily was dressed casually in two-inch flat-heeled boots, jeans, a red blouse that you couldn’t help noticing it accentuated her chest and had the usual long coat on. Your brain was finding this hard to comprehend right now that Emily Prentiss was standing at your door.

She returns the favor and studies you as the music shuffles to the next song - Training Season by Dua Lipa. You had positioned yourself in a defensive stance by the door, ready to bring your gun arm around if needed. Brown eyes enjoy the view as you had pajama shorts on and a black CIA tee which spoke of all the work you were supposedly doing with the agency – which was none.  She locks eyes with yours with a self-satisfied smile.

I need someone to hold me close, deeper than I've ever known

Whose love feels like a rodeo, knows just how to take control

When I'm vulnerable, he's straight-talking to my soul

Conversation overload, got me feeling vertigo*

She breaks the silence. “Busy working, huh?”

You scramble for an excuse, totally out of your element and comfort to be your cocky sure self. “I …Hey!” But that didn’t stop Prentiss from inviting herself in. “The hell, Prentiss!”

She strides through the foyer with hands in her coat pockets as you put the safety on your gun on the way to the kitchen. “Please, come on in!” you say venomously and place your gun back on the counter. You did not appreciate her behavior at all.

You could tell she was taking it all in to figure you out, but there was nothing of note to process as you still hadn’t brought your items in from storage. Everything was all chosen by the CIA as Emily soon surmised.

“Why did you lie?” she asks, eyes going to the tumbler and book on the coffee table. The only signs of you.

“Oh, no. You, first. How the fuck did you find me?” How dare she, how dare the BAU, break into parts of the CIA to find out where the hell she was. Penelope wasn’t doing that anymore!

She turns around and with one word shatters your anger into anxiety. “Korogoth.”

Why would Brian give up your location without your knowledge? That wasn’t the protocol you put in place. Unless … unless he fucking knew you’d run off and avoid a confrontation with Prentiss and come straight to him asking to be moved. Which really would only delay the inevitable conversation that you were going to have right now. You were well aware of the irony that you wanted to be included with the team at work but socially was fucking scaring you shitless. It always scared you shitless, which is why you’ve kept any personal involvement at work. Meeting Tara for dinner with Rebecca was different. It was a small intimate gathering and you would have done that with anyone that she was dating.

You once again stand before Prentiss with no retort because clearly your father figure wanted this to happen. As that shut you down, Emily continues. “So, why did you lie?”

You work your jaw and cross your arms, refusing to answer.

With a small tilt of her head, Emily nods. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me, but you’re going out with us.”

Your heart clenches as your eyes widen. “What? No!”

“You’re disappointing everyone,” she says, and you realize that meant her too. Because if she wanted to separate her feelings, she would have said the team.

“Won’t be the first time,” you point out petulantly.

Emily’s brown eyes squint. “And it won’t be now. You’re part of the team and the team’s going out.” With that declaration, she’s off to your bedroom.

“Hey!” You call out and stalk after her, but she already turned the corner.

By the time you made it into the main bedroom, Prentiss already opened the doors to your closet and was rifling through your minimal ensembles. “Geesh, Whitlock. You’re not giving me much to work with.”

“That’s fine because I think I made it clear I wasn’t going out,” you affirm before sitting on the queen size bed.

The bedroom was white and had hardwood floors like the rest of the condo, filled with basic modern furniture and pictures. Your personal duffel was stuffed under the bed that contained pieces of you and remained hidden. Nothing of importance was in the closet or in plain sight.

“And I think I made it clear you’re coming,” she says pulling out a pair of jeans to toss at you.

You set it aside with a huff. “This is ridiculous.”

“So’s hiding. Oh, this works.” Prentiss had to reach far inside to the back of the rack and finds a dark grey long-sleeved V-neck crisscrossed ribbed fitted top. She turns while taking it off the hanger and tosses it at you. “Get dressed.”

You look up at her with a scowl as you set aside the blouse. “Whatever you think’s gonna happen, regardless if Brian approves, it’s not.”

“Then tell me why not,” she presses and when you don’t respond, Emily comes to sit next to you on the bed. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is you’re scared of. And I swear to god if you cite it’s classified, I’m going to bury you in so much paperwork that you’ll think your first three days with me was a vacation.”

Fuck, you couldn’t help laughing at that. “Well shit. Can’t have that.”

You look to Prentiss and realize that the two of you are almost brushing shoulders with how close you are, but what really caught your attention was the sincerity in her eyes. She was pushing this because she cared. Emily said it herself; you are part of the team, and she cares deeply for the team. This was quite the shift since those tenuous first days when you were seen as a threat.

She saw you as a member of the team. It was a bit of a mind fuck to wrap your head around that truth.

You think back to the last time someone took this much interest in your well-being and you had one answer. Brian Korogoth saving your ass at twelve years old and that was a long fucking time ago for someone to give a shit about you that wasn’t just in the best interest of your country or as a CIA asset. Your three brothers and sister were thrusted together under similar circumstances and became a found family because you needed each other to succeed with Brian being the strong, caring hand that guided you all to be better people.

Prentiss didn’t have to do shit and went above and beyond to track your ass down just for a social night with the team. There was nothing in it for her except for your well-being.

You lower your head and stare blankly at your lap because your eyes threatened to tear up with a surge of affection that came over you. “You may find this shocking, but I really suck at being part of a group.”

She leans forward a little to try and catch your gaze, but you wouldn’t look up. “I don’t find that surprising at all.”

Your brow furrows and in one blink, are side eyeing her. “Why?”

Prentiss fans her hands out as she speaks. “Well, you being a not not spy comes with a lot of loneliness and awkwardness. You get wrapped up in everything that you’re supposed to be and forget what it means to be you.”

Oh, if Emily only knew it went far deeper than that, though she wasn’t entirely wrong. She understood the pressure of undercover assignments where you never knew if a subtle fuck up would mean your death. “Not completely untrue, but not the entire picture either.”

“Fill it in for me. What am I missing?” she urges gently.

You blow out a strong breath between your lips while rubbing the palms of your hands along your bare thighs. You are displaying how vulnerable you are, but you blame Brian for putting you in this position. “What did he tell you. Brian.”

“Where you live an-.”

Your only focus is what she said first. “No one is supposed to know where I am. So, why’d he tell you?”

She purses her lips and shrugs. “Because I presented an important case.”

“Which was?” you ask warily.

“That you needed to take better care of yourself.”

Fuck it all, that’s what Brian wants too.

Great.

“Helps that I can flex my section chief credentials to get clearance,” she adds casually which made you blanch.

You look at her in a panic and had to stop from grabbing her shoulders to shake the truth from her. “What does that mean exactly?”

Prentiss straightens her posture and was about to intercept your hands but settles back onto the bed, seeing the unbridled panic in your eyes. “Hey,” she says your name soothingly, “just on the list to know where you live. Nothing more. I wouldn’t go behind your back like that. Neither would Korogoth.”

Your shaky breathing slowly calms, and your hands find a place in your lap and behind where Prentiss was sitting. “Oh, okay. Yeah.”

She looks at you curiously. “Is this about what happened with the AWOL situation?”

You laugh humorlessly. “If only.”

That made her brows raise with some concern. “There’s more?”

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that.” Then wince. “Not exactly. It’s… fuck …” You bring your hands up to rub your face and grumble. “Uhrr!”

“Okay, I get it,” Prentiss backs off knowing that the burgeoning trust that is going on between you was about to snap. “Don’t need to answer, but please let me tell you that Korogoth also confirmed what you told me a few weeks ago.”

You managed to peek through your fingers with one eye.

“He confirmed everything you said without my asking for it. And that your stipend isn’t from the AWOL mess. That you earned it as a long standing, and decorated, agent of the CIA.” she assures. “Since he cleared me enough to get your address, he wanted to make sure I knew how incredible of an agent you are despite the whole ….” She brings her hands up and gestures wildly, “… mystery surrounding you. But to be fair? I’m well aware of it now too.”

You bring your hands down. “He said that, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“And you really think that of me?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Huh. Okay.” You nod, making a decision.

“Okay?” she slowly rests her arms on her legs, waiting for clarification.

“Yeah,” you give her a timid smile. “I’ll go.”

Emily’s grin spreads brightly across her face as she reaches for your arm. “Great. I’ll let the girls know.”

“No, don’t,” you say, stopping her from reaching for her phone. The accidental brush of your fingers sends a rush of heat through you, and you drop your hand.

“I’m confused. Why not?” she asks, curling her hand away hiding the similar effect it had on her.

Chapter 10

You grin. “Let’s surprise them.”

*Criminal Informants

*Lyrics from Training Season, Dua Lipa. The song was not from 2022 but this fits so well. So canon divergent we go!

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean @unoreverselu @fluffypalmtree

Let me know if you would like to be tagged as well. Thank you for reading!

[nalyra-dreaming]

hi nalyra, a couple of days ago i saw you answering something about the possibility of tr*mp being elected and that not being great for iwtv and shows in general i think. i'm not sure i understood what's going to happen now that the nightmare came true. would you mind explaining to me?

Well….

I mean, you heard about Project 2025, maybe?

If you haven't... well, I posted about it months ago, and ... it might be too late now, but the Trump administration and his enablers set up this nice little playbook. It's worth looking into, because that's what they want.

We'll see if they manage, but... remember how fast the environmental websites disappeared last time? The LGBT ones? Yep. I remember. First day. And it's easy to check the shit show that happened because of Trump's first term, and still...

Anyways, what does that mean for IWTV?

Let me be cynical for a moment - what do you think it means?

A show, addressing racial issues, with a color-conscious recast. A show, featuring more or less all queer characters. A show, about to feature non-binary and genderqueer characters. A show, not afraid of putting its fingers into wounds.

It is a good thing they're about to start filming s3 already.

I hope we will get s4.

For more I do not dare to hope for.

I ... don't think it's going to be cancelled immediately. And maybe we'll get lucky and AMC will continue to thrive through the people loving the show. Luckily AMC is situated in New York, too.

But if they implement legislation, like they plan to?

Then that will impact. You probably cannot quite fathom how much - yet.

If the Trump administration manages to implement half of what they're planning it will throw back the US for decades.

And with it the culture, and ... well. TV shows, too. Remember all the porn bans, and - even more benevolently - the cookie popups?? LEGISLATION. The wet dream of these people. And they just scored a major victory.

IWTV is the very antithesis for a lot of their beliefs. Queer, racially sensitive and highly critical.

It will be a thorn in their side, and they will seek to remove it.

It will be up to us to make it lucrative enough for AMC to put up with the backlash btw or even fight back against legislation/censorship. Like, seriously. Should IWTV get 10 seasons? YEP. Does AMC plan to do so? Yes. At this point at least they do.

Will they be able to fight against legislation? Debatable.

So maybe this fandom can fucking stop infighting about fucking fictional characters and maybe actually work to keep this friggin' show.

Hope dies last. -.-

Oh, and while we're at it: It's a good thing Ao3 is in CA, but please don't think that they are absolutely safe there. Four years is a long time, and I don't think Trump is going to hold any election after those four years.... -.-

[byslantedlight]

Hello OFMD Tumblr thingie, and all the amazing people who are out there, and especially the ones who've been making all the posts that have made me so happy over the last few months. 💖💖💖 First and most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to anyone who sees this!

This is my first post to Tumblr (probably pretty obvious from my huge lack of Tumblr sophistication! And the length of this post...) If you don't count reblogging things that I wanted to be able to find again. I've braved up to comment thank you to people a couple of times, but that's been it so far. I must admit it all looks a bit scary from this side of the glass, even though I can also see how friendly people mostly are.

But OFMD fandom is big! And you've been here a long time! I loved Series 1 when I watched it, and knew I wanted to watch out for Series 2, but it wasn't until I re-watched it when the Series 2 trailer came out on BBC iPlayer that I fell veeeery in love with it! And by then you were already here, and there was a language and debates about things I'd barely even noticed, and it's mostly me staring with big eyes thinking wow, and sometimes huh? and... well, you know. Plus there's trying to work out Tumblr, which I definitely haven't actually managed to do yet, and possibly never will, so... I decided to just jump in and post summat. Even just rambling, which is a bit of a specialty of mine... I mean - what's the worst that can happen, right? 😬

So... how come now? Well, I can't make art or gorgeous screenshots or gifs. I do write, but I'm still hanging out to get the right voices in my keyboard... I know them when I hear them, but you've gotta get the right rhythm going, and I'm not quite there yet, I don't think. Although really, I should probably just sit down and try (and stop waiting for work to shut up and give me time - I should be a pirate and take it!)

Anyway (told you about the rambling...) what I'm mostly doing apart from rewatching the eps on a constant loop is reading the fic. I'm picking it according to kudos on AO3, and according to recs that I see on Tumblr, and it's occured to me that alot of the stories I'm loving must have been recced looong ago, and that newbies like me totally missed them, and so maybe I could do my own recs, even if they are of older stories, and someone might find them useful. You know, if I work out how anyone else might ever see my posts. 😁 And if people aren't put off by my probably age-revealing use of emojis. (But I am entirely age-appropriate for Ed and Stede, and if I had to look up what zaddy meant too, well, that just means I matched Rhys Darby's expression in the bts, right? 🤨)

So it's not much, but I'd like to contribute even just a tiny bit to OFMD fandom in return for everything it gives me, so... yeah. That's my plan. I'll start in a bit, but this post is probably already too long since it's just rambling. And kind of dull. I should probably have said tl:dr at the top, shouldn't I, but then maybe anyone who actually saw this wouldn't, so... See, I kind of live in hope. 😊

Okay. Tags next, right? ... ack ... why won't it let me create new tags instead of just using ones from the drop down...? Well, those will have to do for now... maybe someone who sees this will have mercy and tell me how? I'll just be over here being a slight failure at Tumblr... And if you've made it this far (how long is an acceptable post over here?! Not this long, I don't think...) - thank you hugely for just that, and may your dreams be OFMD and joyous!

[frjimdefroque]

!!IMPORTANT ADMIN POST!!

It kind of sucks that I have to make an announcement like this but I keep getting messages and I’m starting to debate abandoning this whole Jim thing because it’s starting to get fucking weird.

I just reposted something saying this, but please be mindful of what you’re saying. I get that I say “NSFW asks allowed” but that doesn’t mean you can be a weirdo who asks Jim what it’s like to suck dick. (Which has happened before in the past, believe me.)

I like to allow you guys to have fun and make silly comments and make people laugh about it and I admit, I’ve laughed at these jokes, but when you’re describing lude NSFW things to me in detail, it’s just weird man, please go back to AO3 or your ‘Ghost headcanons’ blogs for my sake.

I think I’m gonna draw the line in permanent marker at the graphic (sexual) descriptions of stuff you or your character thinks or does. It might seem high for some, but trust me, it’s very low compared to what I’ve seen. Jim is a horrible person so I’m gonna let more slide than I should.

The next comment I get not following these guidelines, I’m going to take a break from posting on this Jim blog, and I encourage any RP blog to take a break if things are getting too out of hand.

I appreciate all the support you guys have given me over the months, and I love you all despite your weird fantasies haha. Have a good day or night ❤️

-Charlie

[thebest-medicine]

I ‘christ’Miss Our Little Talks

Happy Squealing Santa 2024!!!!! Didn’t it start in like 2014? Is this the 10th squealing Santa???? Dang-a-rang!

A/N: Happiest of holidays! Merriest of Christmasses! And a Happy New Year to thee my giftee @kawaiipeacemusic!!! Hope you had a good holiday season and have a wonderful start to your new year! And all the same to the wonderful, lovely @cantsaythetword!!! Thank you for hosting this year’s fabulous @squealing-santa event!! 

Prompt(s): “we’ll talk” with lee!deku ler!shinso, lee!todoroki ler!bakugo, or ler!todoroki x reader (I went with the first option!)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Shinso and Izuku are working on a class exercise together, but Midoriya spends more time muttering to himself rather than strategizing and analyzing with his classmate. When Shinso tries to get Izuku’s attention, he finds a much more effective way to get his classmate on task. Words: 2.4k [read on ao3]

...

“You have the rest of this class hour to complete everything in the assignment. Remember your post-training analysis at the end of the combat section.” Aizawa explained with little enthusiasm.  “Pairs have already been decided, let’s get to it, 2-A.” He waved his class off and turned from the training grounds, walking to find himself a space along the sidelines and observe the young heroes.

Their assignment was a paired exercise focusing on teamwork and communication. They had a checklist of tasks to complete, and a combat training test of how their quirks worked best both together and against each other. Excited chatter began to flood the grounds, everyone pairing off with their respective partners. 

“Looks like it’s you and me, Icy Hot.” Bakugo leered, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s go!” 

“You realize most of these tasks are collaborative, right? We aren’t just fighting..?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow at his assigned partner. 

“Yay! Yao-Momo!” Ashido cheered. “We’re gonna do so good!” She sped over toward Yaoyorozu and lifted her into a spinning hug. 

Laughing, they both made their way through the training grounds as Momo began, “I’ve already started analyzing the list and I think we can…” Her voice faded out to the others as she and Mina carved out their space and started to plan.

Hitoshi Shinso, newly integrated into U.A.’s hero course, was paired up to train with none other than Izuku Midoriya. Shinso, at times, still felt a little unsure of his place in the hero course —like today. Well, maybe today it was just that feeling of being out of sync with Izuku’s unrelenting enthusiasm —well, that and the constant muttering.

Their dynamic felt…well, a bit awkward at first –but functional. He knew Izuku’s heart was in the right place, even if he got caught up in his head a bit when he got too focused on something.

Some pairs of students had run off to complete some of the tasks in the woods or further away in the grounds, while a few other groups, including Bakugo and Todoroki, stayed near the large, outdoor mats and to start out with the versus combat section. 

Izuku, and his overthinking, added a minute or two on to the time it should have taken them as he debated, muttering to himself about which space would be the perfect area for training. 

Hitoshi rolled his shoulders, loosening himself up a bit, and pulled up his mask. “Ready, Midoriya?”

Izuku just nodded back. 

Shinso brought out his capture weapon scarf with a practiced ease, and the two of them began to spar. He narrowly but gracefully avoided a kick and a punch—kindly not done with Deku’s full power. It was hard for Shinso to use his quirk while trying to fight one-on-one out in the open. He would have to try to think of something else to tilt the battle to his advantage. 

Calling for a break, Shinso made his way to sit along the side. He took some sips of water as Izuku paced back and forth, muttering to himself. 

“Midoriya… want to share what you’re thinking?” Hitoshi asked, glancing up at him. 

“Hm?” Izuku made a slight sound of acknowledgement, turning as he continued to pace.

“I’d love some feedback, suggestions, tips.. and to work with you on some of the same.. This is supposed to be a partnered project, after all.”

“Oh, uh, sorry!” Midoriya grinned sheepishly. “Was I muttering to myself again?” He brought a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks pinkening a bit. 

“Yes.” Shinso sighed, reaching his arm out to Midoriya’s side to pull him in closer, help him focus.

Izuku squeaked at the unexpected touch, jumping a little away from Hitoshi. “Ah–”

“What was that?”

“Huh? Nothing!” 

“Nothing?”

“Yes!” Izuku said quickly.

“Then…are you ready to get back to our schoolwork?”

“Y-Yeah! Exactly.” 

“Hm.”

Midoriya started to move himself away from Shinso’s hand on his side, only for the fingers there to reach out further and poke-poke-poke-squeeze. 

“Shi-hihihih-in- whohohoahahaha–” The unexpectedness of it all had been what hit him first—what had really put him off guard—a sudden, playful touch that sent his nerves alight and left him gasping for air between unbidden giggles. Shock turned into pure, unfiltered reaction as Izuku realized he couldn’t stop the laughter that seemed to take on a life of its own. 

Shinso’s eyes sparkled with an inquisitive awe. “So you are ticklish.” He said quietly, mostly to himself. 

“Nahaha- I’m not!” Midoriya squealed, protesting despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. His knees buckled as he crumpled forward onto the dusty mat. 

Shinso followed him down. “Whoever you partner up with, it’s important to be fully honest with one another, isn’t it?” He lamented, teasing as he pinned the other hero-in-training to the floor. “How else will we ever work together?” Shinso grinned then put on a faux pleading look. “C’mon. Talk to me?” He poked along Izuku’s sides, prompting.

Izuku grunted, shaking his head as he tried with all his might to fight his urge to laugh desperately.

Shinso sighed. “Oh, we’ll talk.” Then he dragged one of Midoriya’s arms behind his own back, pinning it bent up against his shoulder blade. “Sooner than you think.” He wrapped his scarf around Izuku’s arm in a few places, then around his chest and neck, securing him in place.

Now, Shinso had him pinned face down, one strong leg over him half straddling his body, one of his arms wrapped down at his side in the capture scarf and the other now half-chicken-winged behind his back. Izuku could probably get out of this with a little concentration, but then… A jolt raced through his mind as he felt a feather-light touch reappear against the side of his ribs, his mind struggling to process the sensation. This wasn’t a quick jab or poke, this was soft, deliberate, giggle-inducing tickling. It started as just a faint, tingling pressure. While his mind was still catching up to what was happening, his body betrayed him, jerking instinctively to the side as the sensation spread like wildfire. His chest ached as he held his breath. 

The realization hit him—he was being tickled—Shinso was really pinning him down and tickling him—and he wasn’t stopping. 

A squeal of helpless laughter blurted out before Izuku could stop it. His breath hitched when he managed to get a breath in, and for a split second, he froze, caught between the uncontrollable urge to squirm away and the disbelief in what Shinso—quiet, brooding, mysterious Shinso—was doing to him (and during class, of all times!). 

He managed to twist his head to the side enough to get a look at his purple-haired classmate, only to see a devious half-smile on his face. Surprise rippled through Izuku—he would have expected something like this from.. honestly almost anyone else—and the shock quickly gave way to a wave of chaotic, fluttery sensations that had him twisting and wriggling without thinking. Shinso upped his tempo, tapping his fingertips along his classmate’s ribs and grinning. “Thought this might help you talk..”

Fingers pinched up and down Izuku’s ribs, whose eyes widened as his mouth curved up in a wide, wobbly smile. It was as if Izuku’s whole body lit up at once, the gentle, teasing contact making it impossible to stay still, his laughter spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. “Nononono Shihihihinso wahahahait!” He giggled helplessly, trying to muffle the sound. “Nohohoho no wahahaha! Hehehe not t-tickling ehehehehe! Peheheheople will seehehehee!” 

His arms struggled against Shinso’s scarf as his legs kicked out against the floor, flailing aimlessly each time Shinso brought his hands up higher along Midoriya’s ribs. 

“C’mon. If you don’t want them to notice, keep it down. Control yourself, Midoriya.” Shinso teased quietly, a smug little smile on his lips. “C’mon, does it really tickle that bad?”

“Yehehehehes! It- ha-ah—” Izuku stopped struggling all at once, his eyes going blank as he slumped against the large mat. 

“Got-cha.” Shinso half-sang, teasing. 

Izuku stared blankly, fully under the grip of his classmate’s quirk. Hitoshi flipped him over onto his back and untangled him from his scarf, adjusting his limbs and spreading his arms out to the sides.

“Now. Let’s see how long you can keep those arms up.” Hitoshi ordered, crawling over his classmate’s body to straddle him, expecting his quirk to be quickly overcome with the desperation brought on by tickling. 

Izuku just laid there after bringing his arms straight up over his head, otherwise unmoving. Somewhere in his mind he was blushing ten thousand shades of red and giggling in anticipation. 

“Good job.” Shinso smirked. “Now… Just in case.” He wrapped the strong scarf around Izuku’s wrists, keeping them together where they laid over his head. 

Inside, Midoriya whimpered.

“Ohh. You know what I want to try, Midoriya?” 

Izuku simply stared blankly up at him. 

“I’ve been working more and more on expanding my quirk and making people talk.. I wonder if I can get you to…” He paused, considering. “Tell me where you are most vulnerable to tickling.” 

No! Somewhere in Izuku’s mind screamed as his mouth opened and he heard his voice answering his classmate with almost no intonation. Like it didn’t belong to him. ‘Hips.’ Dammit dammit dammit! What was he saying now? ‘Stomach. Feet. Armpits.’ Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

“Now we’re talking!” Shinso appeared happier than his classmate had ever seen him. “Alright, now. Stay still for me.” He smirked, adding. “Not that you have much of a choice.”

Shinso wriggled one finger gently under each of Izuku’s arms. 

His expression stayed neutral all of 5 seconds before a smile morphed its way onto his face and he broke out of the quirk’s hold, tearing his bound wrists down in a futile attempt at protecting himself. He giggled loudly, squirming wildly back and forth as Shinso’s now-trapped fingers danced their way across the hollows of his armpits. 

“Plehehehehease!” Midoriya squeaked, kicking his feet into the air. “They’re gonna seeeeheheheheheheee!!!”

“Yeah they might if you don’t quiet down, do you think they’d help me?” 

“No!” Izuku gasped, panicking at the thought before his expression and most of his mind went blank. Caught again. At least the tickling stopped for a moment. 

And then it’s arms back up. Eyes blank. Shinso’s hands closing in… 

“Where else did you say, stomach, right?” As Hitoshi drew his fingers over Midoriya’s vulnerable middle—one that used to be soft and gentle but was now hardened with muscle—he wiggled them like a sluggish spider crawling over his belly. 

He felt the body tense underneath him and saw the corners of Deku’s lips almost start to twitch into a smile. But, it seemed that as long as he remained gentle, didn’t overwhelm, he might well be able to keep his mental hold on the other boy longer. 

On the path back over his shivering stomach, Shinso’s sluggish spidering fingers slipped into Izuku’s belly button, and he hiccuped-laughed his way right back into consciousness. 

“Okahahahay, ohmygosh- Shihihihinso—” Izuku batted weakly with his joined wrists at his captor’s still-tickling hands. “Plehehease—” 

The tickling stopped then, but something in Shinso’s eyes told Izuku it wasn’t quite over yet. 

“Now… I’m not gonna tear off your shoes in the middle of class but I will be testing those out another time.” Izuku gaped at him as he spoke. “But, I did want to try one more spot you mentioned…” Shinso wiggled his fingers slowly toward Midoriya’s middle. 

“Wait! You can’t—” His eyes bugged out wide.

“Oh, can’t I?” 

Izuku shook his head, biting his lip to keep from answering again.

“You know I can just tickle you again anyway, quirk or not, right?”

“Nohohoho!” Izuku whined, he couldn’t help it. 

A beat later, his eyes and face returned to what seemed to be their common state—blank.

“There we go…” Hitoshi smiled, having Izuku reposition himself with his arms over his head. His fingers wiggled menacingly and dramatically slow as they approached his lower waist. And just when they made contact—

Izuku shrieked, breaking free from the hypnotic hold mere moments after Hitoshi’s fingers squeezed into the divots of his hips through his uniform. “WahahahaHA-NOT THERE!”

Shinso chuckled, sounding pleased, as he backed up a bit and stopped pinning the other boy down.

With a quick roll onto his side and a kick into the ground with a small percentage of his power, Izuku jumped to his feet and scrambled away before he could be further caught up in the capture scarf or hypnosis again — or worse, even just pinned from how weak and dizzy he felt with laughter. “Ahahahalright! Don’t we have-have work to do?” Izuku whined, putting his bound hands up between them defensively. 

“Couldn’t help but keep talking to me, even though you knew it was making it worse for you..” Shinso smirked at him affectionately, reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

Izuku flinched away with a sheepish grin. “What? I couldn’t help it. I- you were- you kept-”

“You know… You never actually told me to stop either.” Shinso smirked as Midoriya turned bright red. 

“I- what? No, I- I did.. I mean, well, I couldn’t even–” 

“We’ll talk about that later.” Shinso waved a hand dismissively.

Izuku buried his face in his hands, mumbling into them. 

“Don’t be so embarrassed.” Shinso wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Your reactions were pretty cute.” 

“Ohmygodshutup.” Midoriya whined into his hands, cheeks still burning. “We.. we have an assignment to get done.”

“You’re right. Maybe we can use some of what we learned here in our analysis report?” Hitoshi smiled, still a hint of teasing, as he began to unbind his classmate’s wrists.

Izuku brightened, already overcoming his embarrassment by thinking about how the impacts of an outside stimulus can affect those affected by Shinso’s quirk. Could it be tested further? They stood, discussing ideas, before they continued on with their assignment.

[moonferry]

hello all. i was inspired by a line of dialogue harvey has when u marry him and decided to write a little drabble!

fic name: a doctor's worst nightmare

word count: 1459

pairing: harvey x gn!reader

warnings: hospitals, near death experiences, blasphemy, ooc swearing due to high stress/emotions

genre: angst. don't worry it has a happy ending!

characters: harvey, gn!farmer, abigail (briefly)

fic below the cut! i will also be posting this on ao3!

harvey hummed to himself as he continued to work on his newest model plane. he had been meticulously painting all the tiny details - all the way from the pilot in the cockpit to the silver detailing on the wheels - for the majority of the morning. he was so invested in his project he seemed to miss his spouse calling out that they would return later.

he finally finished his plane and set the delicate model onto a stand to dry. his stomach grumbled and he realized he had been much more invested in his project than he planned and he should probably have a quick snack. harvey trudged toward the farmhouse kitchen and was greeted by a small note which read: “i went to the mines with abby! i’ll be back by dinner, don't worry! love, farmer.”

harvey shook his head. leave it to his adventurous spouse to go into the mines, he thought. he did think it was quite odd that the farmer hadn't returned yet, though. didn’t they say ‘by dinner’? harvey glanced at the grandfather clock - which currently said 6:30 pm - and scratched his head.

before he could debate any further, a frantic knock came from outside. maybe the farmer is back? he thought as he went towards the door and opened it - peering outside. however, he was extremely surprised to see who was there.

“abigail? have you and the farmer finished your mining?” he asked, though he quickly noticed abigail looked much paler than usual.

“oh, harvey,” abigail spoke, her voice breaking in the middle of each syllable, “i'm so sorry.”

“hold on a second,” he paused, confusion washing over his face, “why are you apologizing? did something happen?”

abigail sniffled and harvey noticed that her eyes were bloodshot. she went quiet for a moment before replying, “it's the farmer. we need to go to the clinic right now.”

harvey felt as if the world was spinning around him. he clutched the mermaid pendant he had safely tucked inside his left shirt pocket - he always kept it there so the farmer would be as close to his heart as possible. his breathing went ragged and he had to lean against the door frame for support. of course something happens on the one day he doesn't go into the clinic.

he takes a second to compose himself and his breathing and then spoke with a calmness that felt almost alien, “let me get my things. i'll be right over.”

harvey had acquired an adrenaline-fueled almost super human speed as he grabbed his doctor’s bag and practically ran to the clinic.

his heart nearly sank when he saw the farmer: limp and spread haphazardly across the closest surface - which happened to be the floor. he was used to seeing the farmer with bruises, but never any this badly.

“help me get them into a bed. i need to properly examine them.” he instructed abigail. he didn't wait on a response before crouching down and lifting the farmer by their torso. the two placed the farmer securely onto the nearest hospital bed and harvey remembered the farmer’s note.

“abigail,” he started, turning towards the purple-haired girl, “what exactly happened when you two went into the mines?” he words came out almost accusatory, though he instantly regretted this when he saw the distress on abigail’s face.

abby sniffled again, rubbing her stinging eyes. “well, the farmer offered to help me with sword training..,” she began, speaking almost too softly for harvey to hear. “we started on the lower levels, of course, but i urged them that i was ready to take on a real monster… i.. i guess i wasn't. we encountered a really powerful one and it knocked my sword out of my hand-” she was interrupted by more tears and she recalled the events, “farmer jumped in to save me. they had almost defeated the creature when it exploded. they got caught in the middle of the explosion and got pinned under some rubble. we used all our strength to get them out and they told me to find you.”

abigail continued speaking through the tears - which were now streaming down her cheeks. her voice broke again, “oh, harvey. i'm so.. so sorry. it's all my fault. if only i had been stronger-”

“abigail, this is not your fault,” harvey reassured her. he glanced at his spouse, “if they hadn't been so damn heroic… no. this isn't their fault, either.” he was mainly talking to himself here.

he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “i think you should head home. leave this to me, alright? i’ll let you know if i have any updates.” abigail nodded and silently left the clinic.

harvey pulled up a chair and sat next to the hospital bead, his head resting against his palms and his elbows against the railing of the bed.

he sat there for a moment, listening to the heart monitor beeping steadily. he couldn't help but blame himself – if only he had been paying attention when the farmer left. maybe he could've convinced them to stay.

“oh, sweetheart,” harvey whispered, his hand moving to hold his spouse’s hand, “how could something like this happen?”

he had tried everything, yet the farmer’s condition didn't seem to be improving. harvey had spent weeks hunched over the hospital bed - his worry growing every second. he even neglected his own health, often forgetting meals because he didn't want to leave the farmer alone.

one day, something changed. the heart monitor continued to beep as usual before suddenly turning into one straight tone. the farmer was flatlining.

harvey felt his own heart constrict in his chest. the walls of the room felt as if they were closing in. this couldn't be happening. he couldn't lose them, especially after fighting so hard to keep them safe throughout their marriage.

“don't do this to me..,” he pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. “yoba, you damn bastard! don't do this to me. don't take them away from me,” anger filled his voice and the tears began to stream down his cheeks. the salt burned his eyes, but he didn't seem to care. his calmness washed away. he was a nervous, upset wreck. this was his worst nightmare come true.

he laid his head down on the farmer’s chest - desperately listening and hoping for a heartbeat or the sound of breathing. for the longest time… nothing. not even the shallow in-and-out breaths that he’d grown accustomed to this week. he had almost given up hope before the faintest pulse came back.

harvey held his breath and waited for the pulse to grow stronger. at first nothing seemed to happen and harvey began to lose hope once again. then, harvey felt something press against the side of his face. he opened his eyes and saw the farmer had miraculously moved their hand and was currently cradling his face.

“oh, baby, you're okay,” harvey whispered with intense excitement and relief. he laid his own hand on top of the farmer’s and squeezed much harder than he meant to.

“harvey, you're going to break my fingers,” the farmer said in a matter-of-fact tone - as if they didn't just come back from the brink of death.

“don't ever scare me like that again!” harvey scolded, though he gently released the farmer’s hand. however, he quickly wrapped them in the biggest, bone-crushing hug ever.

the farmer chuckled at harvey’s smothering, though they winced and placed a hand against their still very bruised ribs.

harvey instantly noticed this and loosened his grip. he sat back down and more tears welled up in his eyes. the farmer placed their hand back on his cheek and wiped the tears away with their thumb.

“oh, harv, don't cry..”

“i’m just so happy you're okay. i was so worried the worst would happen.” he spoke, leaning his head into their palm. he closed his eyes and pressed a few kisses to their wrist.

this soft moment lasted for a few minutes before harvey pouted. “you are going to stay on bed rest, okay? no intense farm work and DEFINITELY no more exploring the mines for a while.” he scolded, though he was careful with his instructions.

“okay, doctor,” the farmer teased. they rested their forehead against harvey’s and closed their eyes.

“i'm serious, farmer.”

“i know, baby.”

“please be more careful. for my sake.”

“no promises,” the farmer joked, a wide smile spreading across their cheeks. they pressed a soft kiss against their husband’s lips - greeted by the familiar feeling of harvey’s mustache brushing against their upper lip.

“i knew you'd say that.” harvey shook his head. he brushed their hair behind their ear and gently kissed their forehead, “let’s get you home.”

[boredandwiredkitty]

I've been debating weather to post this all in one go or by chapter. But due to how much I want to write I'm probably going to post by chapter. I may eventually post this on AO3 when it's completed so we'll see.

TFP WHEELJACK X IDOL!READER

So far there is no adult content but that doesn't mean it won't be in future chapters. I'll do my best to label those in the future.

Reader is AFAB

I do apologize this chapter is rather short.

Pushing past the exit you walked out the back door of the entertainment center. Getting away from the loud sounds and bright lights. To have your moment of peace in the chaos.

You leaned up against the railing that led down the stairs to the loading dock. Where the equipment crew were unloading lights and all other electronics and costumes for the concert.

Pulling your hat further down in an attempt to shield your face from view. You brought your little vape to your lips and took a long drag. It seeming to be the only thing that helped to calm your nerves.

You hated these moments. You always had the most anxiety before stepping out on stage. Thousands if not millions of eyes on you all at once. All expecting perfection.

You exhaled slowly. Your eyes roaming over the various stage hands and workers muddling about. They were mostly finished and started to filter back inside to finish setting up.

You knew you should probably head back in yourself to start getting prepped but you valued this time to yourself. Where you could relax just a bit before flipping the performer switch. You decided to take one more hit of your vape before getting ready when a truck backed out. Revealing a car you've never seen before. Did it belong to one of the crew? You doubted it considering how unique it looked. Must be hella expensive.

You weren't one to go ogle strangers vehicles but you somehow found yourself down the steps and hovering only a couple feet away.

Well since you were already here why not have a look? What's the harm?

Remembering what you were taught you kept your hands behind your back as you walked around the car. Leaning in closer to get a better look at different things.

"I've never seen something like this before." You breathed out in curiosity.

You tried to glance inside to see if the owner was watching you ogling their ride. That would've been embarrassing.

The tint was too dark to determine so you hoped you didn't just creep someone out. "Sorry for stairing." You mumbled out before backing away. Wanting one last look before you went back inside.

Just as you moved to head back up the stairs you heard the sound of a car door opening. And to your absolute dismay saw a rather handsome man step out.

"I'm so sorry for stairing." You spoke quickly fumbling over your words.

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorta used to it."

"Still though." You rambled awkwardly. Taken aback by the handsome guy standing in front of you.

God did his voice have to ooze sex appeal?!

"So," you began trying to not make it more awkward than it seemed. "What are you doing back here? Are you part of the crew?"

He looked at you quizzically before he followed your line of sight to the trucks backed up towards the building.

"Nah I'm not with them." He spoke.

"Then how did you get in here? It's restricted access. Only the crew and performers are allowed back here."

"I dont know. I was trying to avoid someone and I kinda just ended up back here."

You stared at him scrutinizing. "Yeah sure that's what everyone says." It wouldn't be the first time fans have tried to sneak in through the back way.

He put his hands up in defense. "Hey I'm serious."

In a moment of idiotic bravery you lifted the brim of your hat and pulled of your sunglasses. "Then do you know who I am?" Your heart started to race.

He tilted his head and squinted. The long stare a sign he was trying to think. "Do I need to?"

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest. He didn't recognize you? Was it because you weren't wearing your stage outfit and makeup? Or was he really that clueless? You were one of the singers in a fast rising to stardom idol group. You even did solo tours. Did he really not know who you were?

Your jaw must've been on the floor by the way he staired at you weirdly.

"Sorry I don't recognize you."

You came up to him excitedly and clasped his hands not thinking. "No! No! This is great! Finally someone I can be myself in front of! Oh man I didn't think this would make me this stoked!" You had no idea how nice it was to not be recognized.

"You're welcome I guess?" He chuckled while looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Ah! Sorry sorry!" You exclaimed as you quickly dropped his hands and took a step back. Where were your manners. "Oh I never got your name!" You exclaimed. You stuck out your hand "I'm (name)."

He hesitated for a moment before clasping your outstretched hand. "Call me jack."

"Jack" You reiterated with a warm grin. You took this time to get a good look at him. He didn't appear over 35. But has traces of salt and pepper in his tousled dark hair. It was hard to tell if it was black or brown. But his eyes. Were a gorgeous shade of bright blue. He had a 5 o'clock shadow that seemed to work so well on him. And you could see scars that scattered around his arms and face.

He was just your type. Dark and handsome with a mysterious air about him. A hint of danger.

"I've been meaning to ask." He snapped you out of your thoughts. Pointing to your pocket. "What was that you had earlier?"

"Oh you mean my vape?" You asked while pulling out the little device and held it out to him.

He picked it up carefully to inspect it closer. "Interesting. Looks kinda like something I had back home." He mentioned as he handed it back to you.

"Oh you vape too?" You wouldn't be surprised if he did.

"Not quite but very close." He mused in thought as he watched you slip it back into your pocket.

"You from around here?" You queried hopeful. You really wanted to see him again. There was just something about him.

"Nah I just travel alot." He shrugged casually in response. It wasn't a lie.

You bit your lip. You knew you were being crazy. All of this is crazy. "Well I'll be in Cincinnati next week for my next performance. Maybe I'd see you there too? I could tell the security to let in the white car with the Italian livery." You didn't want this to end. You wanted to ask more questions.

He opened his mouth to speak when you heard the door open behind you and saw your manager poke their head out. "Five minutes." They warned while showing their palm to emphasize the time.

Shit how long were you out there. You didn't have much time left.

Your eyes must've been pleading because he shuffled in discomfort as you looked at him before he let out a sigh with a wry smile. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

You did a little hop in excitement. "Yes!" You whispered your cheer. The action reminding him of another girl he knew. Maybe the two of you could get along.

You then stuck your hand out again. "I look forwards to seeing you again jack."

"Same here." He spoke as he took yours in his.

[starvonnie]

Our Pink Living Room

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus Additional Tags: Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Artificial Intelligence, Angst, Androids, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25

Also on AO3

He's not your Megatron.

Rodimus gasped as his spike met with aching ceiling nodes.

This is a lie.

Blue optics met red before shuttering closed for a vent-stealing kiss.

This isn't right.

Rodimus did everything he could to ground himself in the moment. For Primus’ sake, he was more than filled with spike—Megatron's spike—but it wasn't his. 

His Megatron. 

The condemned one. The dead one. The absolutely-not-alive one that couldn't be here. Couldn't be holding him.

And yet, he was.

“I love you,” the fake whispered against his lips.

Rodimus moaned before whispering back, “I love you, too.”

But what he loved was a program. AI. Just ones and zeros strung together in just the right way, with a one-to-one scale non-sentient (well… his sentience was debatable) robot. His only solace was that whatever this near-clone did, supposedly Megatron would have done, too. So maybe Rodimus had been too much of a coward to take that leap, but at least he knew his love was horribly requited.

Rodimus regretted. He regretted so much. He wished he had been braver. He wished he'd enjoyed Megatron while he'd had him. And he wished he had fought harder at his trial. Maybe if he had said the right things…

He mentally shook his helm. Interfacing. He was fucking. He shouldn't be getting sad, he should be getting railed.

Rodimus kissed him some more. He'd wanted to kiss Megatron more than anything. While Brainstorm had assured him that this Megatron would be as close to the real thing as could be, he knew deep in his spark that Megatron's lips wouldn't have been as soft and yielding. He imagined they'd be scarred and a little rough.

He couldn't really believe this wonderful lie. He talked like Megatron. Moved like him. Sounded like him. But they never bickered. Not like they used to. He was too damn agreeable. He wanted him to mock Rodimus’ garish colour choices or raise an optic ridge at the amount of sweetener he put in his morning cube. Instead, he awoke to Megatron—or this facsimile of him—having already made his morning cube. With the exact number of sweeteners he usually added.

He tried to test him. 

“I don't actually like it this sweet,” Rodimus lied.

“No? I apologize. Tomorrow I will make it how you like it.”

And the stupid programming remembered, leaving Rodimus to suck down less-sweet energon until he corrected Megatron again.

It was always how he liked it again.

“Can you write me a poem?” Rodimus asked.

Megatron cocked his helm. “What would you like it to be about?”

Rodimus frowned. “Me, obviously.”

Megatron had nodded, stood, then immediately got to work on a datapad. Within a few minutes he'd completed a whole-ass poem, and it was good. Definitely in Megatron’s voice, too, but it still felt off.

Rodimus glanced at that very poem, sitting on the nightstand. He wondered if Megatron, had he loved him, would have actually written him poetry. He burned to know.

“You love fucking my valve, don't you?” Rodimus said between breathy moans.

“I love fucking you,” that damn AI corrected.

It always said exactly what he wanted to hear. Like it was reading his damn processor. He hated it. 

But he couldn't live without it.

Rodimus returned home from work later that day, and Megatron was waiting. Same chair. Same energon blend. Same damn day. Over and over and over.

Frowning at the fake, Rodimus did something different. He ignored him. He walked straight to the washracks and scrubbed at his plating until it felt raw. He wanted to go back to the beginning where he was just so happy for the companionship that he didn't care that this wasn't real. That it would never be real.

Still simmering beneath the surface, Rodimus went back out to the kitchen where Megatron still waited, unmoved. It was like he was waiting to start some program.

Once again, Rodimus did something different. He grabbed some engex and took a swig straight from the bottle. 

“You're drinking again?” Not-Megatron sounded concerned.

“I'm having a drink,” Rodimus corrected. “What do you care?”

“You're my conjunx.”

A flare of anger burst from Rodimus’ field. Of course, this fake never understood him in that way. “Too complicated,” Brainstorm had said when Rodimus asked about his lack of a field.

“We're not conjunx,” Rodimus said quietly.

“What? Of course we are, I lo—”

“You are not real! How could we become conjunx if i didn't initiate, huh? What could possibly put you in a bad light? You have no substance for the Act of Disclosure!”

Megatron's optics dimmed and he lowered his gaze. “Perhaps because I am not real. But I am. I am Megatron.”

“Megatron never would've let me paint the living room pink! Much less with flames around the door!”

Not-Megatron looked around, his brow creased with worry. “We can paint it another colour.”

“That's not—AARGH!” Rodimus kicked the couch. “No! You're supposed to tell me this is a hideous colour and then suggest some bland shit that's an offense to colours everywhere!”

“Maybe… beige?”

“Maybe beige? Are you serious? I lied! You'd want to paint it purple! It's always purple with you!”

Megatron stood and closed the distance between them, and Rodimus stupidly let him. “Then we can paint it purple.”

“That's not the point!” Rodimus grabbed him by the collar faring and tugged him down until they were optic-to-optic. “Fight me on it. Argue with me. We always argued!”

“Will that make you happy?”

No.

“Yes!”

Megatron frowned. “It's a hideous colour.”

Rodimus should've been embarrassed, but his horniness hit him full-throttle and he smashed his mouth against Not-Megatron’s too-pillowy lips. It wasn't long before those strong arms had whisked him away to their berthroom and Megatron was deep inside of him again, fucking him like it was his Primus-given purpose.

Except Primus had no purpose for him. Primus didn't make him. Really, he was basically just a sex robot. Which, normally, Rodimus wouldn't have a problem with, but that wasn't why he had him made.

He needed more.

The next day, while at work, he did the bare minimum and spent most of the day just thinking. He weighed the pros and cons and did some deep soul-searching to figure out what he really wanted.

His processor hurt by the end of it.

Of course, he came to the same realization he always did: he wanted Megatron. He wanted to actual mech. The one with free will who wouldn't just let him do whatever he wanted without consequence. 

What finally pushed him to do it was the realization that Megatron wouldn't want this. The dead were dead and there was no way to emulate that.

Megatron didn't resist when Rodimus told him to open his chest. Where a spark should've been was nothing more than a computer compiling and spitting out data. All it took was a few snips from wire cutters for his not-conjunx to go dark and silent.

Rodimus still cried.

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi, 👋 Welcome to another old fic made new again! I promise this is my last re-write, but in similar fashion to Times Like These I found myself fixated recently on giving this fic the more practiced hand it deserves. I hadn't planned on posting much about it until the full re-write was done, but with the Steddie big bang deadline rapidly approaching, it's going to take a little longer than I thought. (And being a slut for encouragement, I figured why not start sharing the first 5 redone chapters now while I work on the rest, in hopes someone will enjoy it.)

Summary:

Against all odds, Steve Harrington saved Eddie Munson from certain death. And Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him for it.

Chapter One

WC: 1980 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation/depression | Ch 1/10 | AO3

On some level, Eddie had always sort-of wanted to die. 

He never planned it out, and he wouldn’t actually do anything about it—probably—but he fantasized about it a lot. 

Which was maybe something he should unpack with a therapist at some point, but that type of thing wasn’t really in the budget for a kid who lived in a trailer park and sold a little weed on the side for extra cash.

Sometimes, on the really bad nights just before falling asleep, he found himself wishing, praying even, not that he really believed in such things, to just not wake up again. And deep down he knew that if he were ever faced with the opportunity to bow out, so to speak, especially in a way that wouldn’t burden anyone—bonus points for a blaze of glory—he’d take it.

The idea came to him as he was helping Dustin to climb up the sheet rope and into the safety of the right-side-up, the thumping sound of the bats throwing themselves into the sides of the trailer, trying so desperately to get in, grating on his already frayed nerves.

It had truly been the week from hell. 

He was cold, dirty, and scared. Overwhelmed with the new reality he’d been forced to accept with exactly zero time to process, and having to come to terms with the fact that there’d been a whole other world existing right under his feet for fucking years, all while on the run from the cops, as well as a community calling for his head on a pike. 

It left him with that all too familiar feeling—weary down to his bones in a way that no nap or good night’s sleep could ever cure.

It wasn’t even a debate in his mind.

Eddie pulled his switchblade out from one of the many pockets on the snazzy green vest Harrington had picked up for him from The Warzone, and slashed the rope, ensuring that Dustin couldn’t follow him—ensuring the kid’s safety before rushing out into the dark to lead the bats away.

Life sure was funny, he thought wryly as he mounted one of the bikes they’d left behind during their last jaunt into the Upside Down, it can take you to places you never even dreamed of, and yet you’ll still wind up exactly where you’re meant to be. 

He peddled as fast as he could, trying to get the bats as far away from the gate as possible.

This was it, the chance he’d always longed for, and at least this way he could leave knowing his life meant something. His sacrifice would keep Dustin safe, keep the demobats out of their world, and buy more time for Harrington and the girls to kill Vecna.

It was a win-win.

And really, what sort of life would he be going back to anyway?

Devil worshiper, cult leader, freak, murderer. It was too many labels, too many things to overcome, just too much, the way he’d always been too much. Too loud, too different, too broken for anyone to want to get too close. 

Worse—when he wasn’t busy being too much, he wasn't enough. Not smart enough, clearly. Who takes this many tries to graduate high school? Not a good enough son, if his parents dumping him on Wayne’s doorstep and never looking back was any indication.

Wayne.

Thinking of the older man caused a brief stab of guilt. Uncle Wayne would be sad when he was gone, no question. The old man wasn’t shy about his love for his only nephew, but honestly this was for the best for him too. One less thing to worry about, and one less mouth to feed. It couldn’t have been easy on his uncle all these years. Raising a kid was never easy, surely, let alone raising someone else’s, but Eddie had no doubt that he’d posed an especially unique challenge.

It wasn’t long before Eddie’s legs failed him, exhaustion making them feel like lead, slowing his pace to the point that the bats were right on his tail, the bulk of the swarm a swirling black cloud above him. One of the little fuckers peeled away from the group, swooping down to knock him from the bike. He flew over the handlebars, hitting the dirt hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop and scrambling back to his feet. 

Eddie screamed his pain at the advancing hoard, banging his shield and raising it against the onslaught of gnashing teeth and beating wings. 

He stood his ground. 

He didn’t give up.

He fought to the very end, until he was overtaken and brought to the ground, laid out like a feast for his unsightly foe.

Later—minutes or hours he had no sense of time anymore, as he lay there dying, soaking the ground beneath him as he bled out, Eddie wondered at his own actions. It must have been a reflex, some long dormant base instinct to survive popping up at the last second, because why else would he fight so hard when it would have made more sense to not? When the writing was on the wall, when this was what he wanted?

Eddie had wanted this.

Hadn’t he?

Steve was soaring. 

He was fucking ecstatic. 

They did it, they’d killed Vecna. 

They fucking won for once, their years-long nightmare finally over for good. 

He, Nancy, and Robin smiled at each other, laughing in hysterical relief as they bounded down the crumbling old steps of the Creel house, the criss-crossing vines that decorated nearly every surface laying dead and dormant. 

The walk back to Forest Hills was spent recounting every detail of their battle. Each one of Nancy’s expert shots, and every molotov cocktail that Steve and Robin had thrown. So sure he was that their little group had had the most dangerous job, save for maybe Max, it didn’t even cross Steve’s mind to worry about the others just yet. He couldn't wait to see Dustin's face, to celebrate this victory with him and the rest of the twerps. 

It wasn’t until they were nearly back to the trailer that he realized something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

He heard Dustin’s cries long before he saw him, and Steve didn’t hesitate to take off running as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction of the sound, trusting that the girls would follow. 

Steve’s heart dropped when the scene finally came into view—Dustin with his head bowed, sobbing as he knelt over the lifeless body of Eddie Munson.

“What happened?” Steve asked, skidding to a stop at their side, dropping to his knees next to the younger boy.

“H-he said he was gonna buy more time. The bats started getting into the trailer and he made me go through the gate first—he made me—and then he cut the rope and then he—” Dustin's voice shook, his eyes shining and red rimmed as he raised his head to meet Steve’s gaze. “He’s gone.”

Those two words broke something inside Steve. 

He couldn't allow this, wouldn’t accept it. They fucking won goddamn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. If any one of them wasn’t going to make it out of this place alive, it should have been him, not Eddie.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Steve bent over the prone figure, listening closely for any signs of breathing while pressing his fingers to Eddie’s neck to check for a pulse. He found neither at first but didn’t let that deter him. Eddie’s skin was still warm and Steve's hands were shaking, his own heartbeat pounding so loudly in his head that it could feasibly be drowning out signs of life.

He gently nudged a still silently weeping Dustin aside and began CPR. 

“What can I do?” Robin asked from his left. She and Nancy must have finally caught up, he hadn’t even heard their approach. 

Steve kept an even rhythm, concentrating all his effort on his compressions as he replied. “Find something to wrap his side, I think that’s where most of the blood is coming from. Then take Dustin back through the gate and call an ambulance. I want them waiting on the other side before I try to move him.”

Robin quickly jumped into action, slipping her jacket off to remove her button down, and with Dustin’s help began working it around Eddie’s middle.

“Steve," Nancy whispered his name, carefully, gently. She was kneeling down on Eddie’s other side, her ear practically pressed to his mouth. "He’s not breathing and he’s lost a lot of blood. I’m sorry, but did he even have a pulse when you got here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said immediately.

“Steve–”

“Just go! Please, Nance.”

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Robin finally came back, and if Dustin had put up a fuss at being made to leave, he hadn’t heard any of it. His entire focus narrowed down to his hands on Eddie’s chest, pumping, his eyes locked on Eddie’s face as he counted to thirty, the taste of blood on his lips as he administered rescue breaths. 

Lather, rinse, repeat… 

“The ambulance is five minutes out, how do you want to do this?”

He could have kissed her in that moment—in the most sisterly way of course. 

She didn’t waste any time questioning if they should be doing this, or if Eddie’s condition had improved. Accepting that Steve had made up his mind and she was going to do everything in her power to help him make it happen. 

The thing was, Steve had felt a faint tap against his fingers the last time he’d checked, and he was 99% sure Eddie did have a pulse now, even if he hadn’t before, and it could have been his imagination but he could have sworn he heard the other boy take a few shallow breaths on his own too.

Together, he and Robin hauled over a piece of discarded corrugated metal, moving Eddie onto it as gently as possible, using it like a stretcher to carry him back to the trailer. 

Getting him through the gate was a bit trickier. Even more-so with the rope being cut, but Robin and Nancy had shoved a bunch of furniture under the hole in the ceiling, and Steve somehow managed to climb up the precarious tower one-handed while balancing their unconscious friend on his back.

When they made it to the other side, Steve carried Eddie in his arms all the way to the ambulance doors, insisting on riding along with them to the hospital. He must have been a sight, sweaty and out of breath, covered head to toe in muck and the other boy’s blood. The EMTs didn't even argue, except to insist Dustin come along too once they noticed his limp. 

Robin and Nancy followed behind in the RV, promising to pick up the others on their way so everyone could regroup at the hospital.

Things changed drastically once they arrived at Hawkins General, and the staff realized just who their patient was. Thankfully the paramedic in the ambulance had managed to stabilize Eddie before he was recognized. Steve shuddered to think about what might have happened otherwise.

Though unconscious and in critical condition, Eddie was treated like the dangerous criminal the whole town thought he was—handcuffed to his hospital bed, and an officer posted up at his door. 

No visitors allowed. 

Once Dustin was released, ankle wrapped and with orders to take it easy for a few weeks, their group was asked in no uncertain terms to leave. Told that no updates would be given on the suspect's condition.

Suspect. 

Steve wanted to throw up, but at least Eddie was alive. 

Chapter 2

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

P.S. Taglist friends, I know this one might not be for everyone, if you'd prefer I not tag you in this fic pls let me know, I totally understand 💜

[ovobawrites]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓍 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

previous ♡ next

The rest of the dinner had consisted of the group finding more and more extreme ways to remove Lilia's 'dessert' off of their plates. Malleus and Silver, experts at this craft, had simply casted spells under the table to remove spoonfuls of the 'cake' every so often while Lilia's eyes were elsewhere. Ortho helped Idia by blasting the 'food' with micro beams of technomatic energy to give off the illusion of Idia slowly eating it. Trey simply casted his unique magic and enjoyed the dessert wholeheartedly, nevermind the fact that it tasted distinctly like candied violets and not like a red velvet cake. 

You absentmindedly spinned the dainty silver spoon in your hand as you debated the merits of merely excusing yourself from dinner with 'monthly problems' as the root cause. On one hand, there'd be no need to eat the most poisonous creation you'd ever seen. On the other, having a bunch of awkward eye contact and boys trying to 'help' with offerings of chocolate and the like was not on your agenda for this vacation. You continued to spin your cutlery as you watched Trey take pity on Riddle and Cater enough to help them out, just as Jamil finished faking his test for poison and proclaimed the dessert contained a certain food dye additive that Kalim was totally allergic too. And in fealty to his master, Jamil too would not partake in the cake. 

Vil and Rook already had the excuse of watching their figures to avoid partaking in dessert, an excuse that Lilia took at face value, promising to use less oil to reduce trans fat next time he makes a cake. The question, of course, was how much oil was Lilia putting in his cakes before? From a glance at Silver's face, way too much. It does explain the yellow liquid with suspended droplets of red that flowed out of the moist yet dry mass in front of you. 

Leona had already conked out, declaring that he only eats meat and will never partake in a food that contains 'herbivore products' whatever that meant. Ruggie, meanwhile, was eating the food with gusto, gladly eating Leona's portion as well. You could guess why, starvation had a knack for making one distinctly more appreciative of food. Even if Lilia's cooking was barely edible, Ruggie would still eat and enjoy it. Tragic, was it not?

Floyd and Jade had started moving their food to Azul's plate, letting the oblivious housewarden magic away their food as well as his own. From the frustrated look on Azul's face, you could guess he hadn't figured out the ruse to the game just yet.

Lilia flourished in all of you 'enjoying' his food, flushed with pride as he described the painstaking process of making the cake. "At first," he said, "I added two drops of the food colouring. But then, I realised, it was never gonna be a 'red velvet cake' without more red! So I dumped the whole bottle in." Lilia puffed his chest out, awaiting praise for correcting this foolhardy decision.

"T-that's lovely." Silver said weakly in reply. "I'm glad you corrected your mistake early on."

"And Trey didn't say a word, that sly devil." Lilia continued, wagging his finger teasingly at his cooking partner. "You were waiting for me to learn it myself, were you not?"

Trey nodded with a smile and a twitching eye. "Yep, I figured you'd realise it eventually."

Lilia guffawed at that. "I'm glad you have such respect for your elders, boy, but next time you should keep in mind that my memory is not as pristine as your own."

Lilia really needs to stop saying such mysterious things. Even if Fae age slower than humans, shouldn't he act more his 'mental age' than his physical one? Though... with his cooking I'd gladly accept dementia as its excuse. 

You sighed quietly, as you decided to take the path of least resistance. You used your food to push the pile of ashes around your plate, giving an illusion of eating it. It seemed less like you weren't eating the food at all, merely picking at it slowly due to a lack of appetite. It really was too bad that Lilia wasn't a better cook. 

Soon enough, the conversation petered out and you stood to dump the 'rest of' your dessert in the food waste bin. Lilia never noticed, not with his distraction and the purposeful silence of your movements. As you went to wash your dishes in the sink, more and more of the boys filed in, all having made deals or negotiations for one to do their dishes for the night.

The suds and the hot water that ran over your skin was familiar as you quickly cleaned up, casting a quick spell under your breath to dry off the dishes and put them away. As you turned around, you smiled at Ruggie and Jamil, the two of them rapidly scrubbing through the plates at a practiced pace. Not too slow to be noticed, but slow enough to get away with just a few moments to themselves. But your attention was taken away by the dark sky, signaling it was about time for you to take some time to yourself. You wanted the opportunity to check up and fix up your wards, with Idia's presence, they were likely weakened a little. 

It was a habit by this point, constantly keeping an eye or two on the wards around your room. The incident was ingrained in your head, to the point where even a day where you didn't check up on them caused this debilitating feeling of fear. Another intruder in your room was something you hoped to never happen again. 

(You were resigned, of course, to the truth of the matter. That it would continue to happen for as long as you were alive. This bloodline that you were born into came cursed with the constant threat of assassins, or worse. For all you could act trusting of your friends, you were never sure when, exactly, they'd come to sell you out. You just hoped it wasn't soon. Hoped to be able to enjoy this illusion of camaraderie for a little while longer.)

You quietly walked up the steps to your room, the group already dispersing amongst themselves into groups of each dorm. A distinct feeling of loneliness overcame you as you watched them separate, yet were never alone. What you would give to have that easy friendship.

There was a knock on your door at 9 o'clock in the evening, just as you were finishing up with warding your room once more. 

"Who is it?" You called out, a pleasant lilt to your voice as you awaited an answer from behind the door. A quick brushstroke to finish off the character for 'warning' and you should be done for the day. 

"it's Trey." A familiar voice replied.

"And Cater!" Another chimed in. "We were wondering if you wanted to play a board game with the rest of us? Apparently Jade brought monopoly with him."

"Oh, sure, I'd love to play." You stood up from your desk and made way to the door, snagging your magic pen as you opened it up. "Shall we go downstairs, then?"

"Of course!" Cater perked up and dashed down immediately.

Trey smiled softly at you and offered an arm. "My lady." He said with a chuckle and a teasing look in his eye.

You giggled in reply. "How chivalrous." You took the proffered arm and walked downstairs with him at a more sedentary pace. 

"We don't have enough pieces for all of us." Jade sighed with a faked look of regret on his face, before his ever-present smile snapped back on. "It seems like we'll have to be in teams, perhaps teams of four?"

"There's eighteen of us," Riddle noted, "so teams of three would be the perfect number."

The smile on Jade's face froze over, though he continued his pleasant countenance. "Of course. I guess the dorms will be splitting up then."

"I think the dorms with three members already work out." Jamil spoke up, "So some of the groups of two will be splitting up instead."

"Rook and I claim (Y/N)." Vil said from his seat on the sofa. "Any objections?"

The glares he got from Leona and Jade were harsh enough to kill, yet they said no word in reply. Always happy to hang out with the pomefiore students, you sat sandwiched between Vil and Rook when the two shifted to make room.

"I can team up with Ruggie and Leona!" Kalim exclaimed from where he was seated, ecstatic grin on his face. "This is gonna be super fun!"

"It'd be even better with a feast..." Ruggie sighed to himself, a glint of sardonic humour in his eye.

Kalim perked up even more. "That's a great idea. Next time we have a board game night, we should make it a feast!"

Jamil sighed. "There's no way I'm making that much food for that many people in such short time Kalim."

"Great! Then I can help out!" He beamed.

"And I could as well." Lilia chimed in with a smile.

A shudder ran through the group.

"Ah... sorry Lilia..." Kalim started, "but you don't know any dishes from Scalding Sands... so..."

"I prefer to cook alone." Jamil interjected. 

Lilia drooped down with a frown. "That's too bad, then."

A clap of his hands brought all eyes to Jade. "Now that the teams are sorted, shall we start choosing our pieces?"

"Oh-oh, dibs on the money bag!" Kalim moved to grab the metal piece when Ruggie revealed it in his hand with a familiar laugh. "Good job, Ruggie!" He patted the hyena beastman on the head before moving to sit back down on the floor at the feet of his team.

"Can we have the dog?" You asked politely from your place on the sofa. Jade wordlessly passed it to you, gaining a grateful smile. You turned to your teammates, wondering quietly: "Are there any strategies for monopoly?"

"Buy everything you land on and get good roles." Vil intoned. "So we should have Rook roll, since he has the best luck of all of us."

"Ah, you flatter me dear Roi du Poison." Rook said with a hand to his chest. "I'd be glad to handle the heavy work for our team. I wouldn't want to see any calluses on either of your soft hands."

Bit weird to say but I appreciate the sentiment.

"And you will handle the money." Vil looked at you. "I'll handle the talking and negotiating. If any auctions come up, I'll bet too. Got it?"

"Roger that!"

"Of course, beautiful Vil."

"Good." He leaned forwards, a competitive gleam to his eyes, "Then shall we win this game?"

"Wait- how does one even play monopoly?" Malleus wondered from his place on the couch.

Trey sighed. "This is gonna be a long night."

"A one." Lilia sighed as he moved the top hat onto another owned property. "How much do we owe you, Azul?"

Azul cackled. "Why, not too much, only 500 dollars!"

Malleus begrudgingly handed over the note to Floyd as the Octavinelle students laughed at their growing pile of money.

"This is unfair." Riddle spoke up from where his team had been sent to the floor, where 'the bankrupt should sit, so we know they're out of the game'. "Of course the board game club members will be the winning teams. We should play a better game."

"Aww, is goldfishie upset about losing so quickly?" Floyd teased with a shark-like grin. "That's too bad... maybe if you had longer arms you'd be able to make better rolls!"

Riddle slowly went red. "Is that. Another. Short joke, Floyd?" He gritted out as Trey and Cater started to coach him into calming down. Riddle only got a laugh in reply, further fanning the flames of his anger.

"We got a two and a one." Ruggie spoke up from the 'Jail' sofa. "Guess we're stuck in here for another turn."

"Good job Ruggie." Leona grinned, "We're out of the madhouse for a little longer."

"Let me out!" Kalim wailed from besides them. "I swear I did nothing wrong! I'm innocent, I swear it!"

"Kalim, this is just a game. You're not actually in jail." Jamil spoke up from his couch, bored out of his mind when Idia and Ortho were doing all the work.

"We got a lucky three!" Rook spoke up from besides you. "We escape le Roi d'Effort's tyrannical reign once more, my dear Roi et Reine."

"Good job, Rook." Vil congratulated, "But we are not out of the woods just yet."

"We don't have enough funds to reliably survive another rent from Idia's group." You murmured worriedly to him as you handed the 'banker', Trey, enough money for another house to your pink set. 

"Trust me, dear, when have I ever lead this team astray?" Vil arched a perfect brow and stroked his hand through your hair in a comforting manner, smirk on his face.

"Uh oh, Azul, we got a five!" Floyd said worriedly as he looked between the board and the dice.

"I'm aware, Floyd." Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he calculated the prices. "Jade, how is our bank looking?"

"We still have plenty of funds, sir." He reported with a smile.

"You owe us 2000 dollars." Vil interrupted. "We just added a house there."

Jade paled. "The status is dire, Azul."

"Do we need to mortgage?"

"I'm afraid we will."

"Then do so."

A wide grin came to Idia's face as he looked over the board while the Octavinelle group struggled to pay yours. "We have this W in the bag, Ortho!" He paused for a moment, before a squeak. "And Jamil! We couldn't have done this without you!"

"I did nothing."

"Which is what we needed! If I was paired with Azul we would've lost by now... he's way too much of a control freak."

"I see." Jamil frowned in thought. "Thank you, then."

"...What was that Idia?" A threatening smile. "I hope you're prepared to face the consequences of what you've said..." 

"My team is plenty prepared to beat yours. We're not the ones on the verge of bankruptcy after all." Jamil grinned, always pleased to go against Azul.

"And now you've even turned Jamil against me! We just cannot let this stand, right Jade and Floyd?" Azul turned to the tweels for support as he faked heartbreak from Jamil's cruel words.

"Nah. I'm bored." Floyd said, examining his nails before deciding to go back to teasing Riddle until he exploded again.

"LOL even your team doesn't want to help you!" Idia laughed, manic grin on his face. "Ortho, roll a five for us if you'd please."

"...It's a seven."

"Goddamnit."

It's been three hours since the group started playing monopoly, with no end in sight to the horrors off the game. For all you tried to end it, only one other group has gone bankrupt since. 

"Finally, we're done for!" Ruggie sighed, relieved to be done with the game and to go to bed.

"Next time you should roll better." Leona glared. "We were this close to winning."

Ruggie looked at the other four groups still in the running and back to Leona, unimpressed. 

"I think we did super well anyways! We weren't the first group out and that's all that matters!" Kalim piped in, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Eh, whatever." Leona yawned before going up the steps to his bedroom. 

"Wh- Leona, aren't you gonna help clean our stuff up?" Ruggie yelled after him, and with the lack of reply, he groaned and went to pack the group's stuff up.

"I think I'll stay up." Kalim said to him. "I wanna see Jamil win!"

"Kalim... I doubt we're gonna be the winners at this rate." Jamil shook his head, the group funds of Ignihyde + Jamil and Octavinelle being significantly diminished since they declared war on each other.

"Shut up Jamil! We're gonna beat that stupid octopus into the ground, got it?!" Idia hissed, muttering calculations and win rates to Ortho as he surveryed the board with a manic look in his eyes.

Vil rolled his eyes. "This game will be way too long. Let's just-"

"NO FORFIETS ALLOWED!" Both Azul and Idia yelled at the same time, wanting to win 'fair and square', whatever that meant.

You tapped Vil on the shoulder and whispered a question to him. "Can I nap for a bit on your shoulder? I'm very much tired but... we can't exactly go to bed now." You shrugged with a weary smile.

"Whatever." He sighed in reply, and didn't say a word as you leant your head against his shoulder and with soft breaths as you drifted off to sleep.

You were still asleep when the game ended. Idia and Azul burnt each other out of the game, both throwing fits and arguing with each other as they went back to their rooms. Kalim, who had drifted off during the long game, was carried up to their shared room by Jamil with a groan off annoyance. Diasomnia somehow ended up winning despite the team only learning the rules a few hours ago.

Rook spoke up as Jade finished packing up the pieces. "Roi du Poison, I can always carry our dear Reine des Cygnes up the stairs if you'd rather go to sleep as soon as possible."

Vil shook his head. "It's fine, I can carry (Y/N) up myself." He merely glared at Rook when his vice housewarden gave a smug smile in reply. "Don't say a word."

"I won't!" He grinned.

"And don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

Vil didn't deign him with a reply and instead picked you up in a bridal carry to get to your room on the second floor. Worryingly, as he did so, you started to stir. His quiet and gentle movements didn't encourage you to go back to sleep, instead it merely woke you up as the two of you reached the top step.

You jolted in his arms. "I- Vil?!"

"What." He said flatly.

"Did you-" You spoke haltingly, tired and disoriented. "carry me up the stairs?"

Vil arched a brow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

You glanced away. "It's just that... you didn't have to go through the trouble, waking me up would suffice. I'm sorry for the bother."

"It was no bother at all." Vil's eyes pierced you as he continued to hold you up steadily. "If I wanted to wake you up, I would have done so. I don't mind doing this much for you." A rare smile graced his face as he looked upon you. "You are... precious to me, after all."

And with that, he set you down gently and walked down the stairs to his room, leaving you frozen in place. As you registered his words, a bright flush marked your cheeks. You hid your face behind your hands for a moment and sighed ever so quietly. Your heart thumped and a sea of butterflies flooded your stomach. 

You wondered what that feeling was as you tucked yourself into bed for the night.

Mini Theatre Jade, packing a monopoly board in his luggage: I can't wait to be on a team with my three favorite people! I'd love to play monopoly with (Y/N)! Vil and Riddle: Allow us to introduce ourselves. Leona: I WANTED TO TEAM WITH HER DAMMIT NOW I'M WITH KALIM. Jamil: ...Finally... freedom...

and here is the sixth part of the beach ep. if you'd like to read the rest of the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here.

[ditzyredrobin]

Shrike Chapter One

Alright! Here she is!

I debated making this the full 4,000+ words but decided, ultimately, this was best for the flow.

In the future, unless there’s a demand for it, I might just stick to Ao3 for full chapters and continue to post snippets here. We’ll see, though.

Thank you so much for waiting! I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. 🥰💜

-

He’s not sure which to classify as more bizarre--the fact that, out the 10 million people in Gotham, Dick Grayson was the one to find him (as in The Flying Graysons Dick Grayson), or the fact that if was Dick Grayson, out of the mask and into his civies. Because both options were less than ideal.

Tim blinked once, twice, trying to clear the fuzzies along with the Dick Grayson shape hallucination from his vision. Because this? This wasn’t happening.

Dick’s right index and middle fingers were pressed against the pulse point on the inside of his wrist, his brow furrowed. His expression softened noticing Tim had opened his eyes. 

“Hey, I was starting to get a little worried there for a second.” His voice was soft and easy, similar to the voice he heard used on small children while in the mask. “My name is Dick--can you tell me yours?”

His fingers were warm against the soft skin, strange for their fourth day of low twenties. It was mid January in Gotham and the ground was covered in a blanket of slushy snirt.

Tim groaned.

Every nerve in his body screamed to run, find his backpack and get out of there, like, yesterday, but his body didn’t seem to get the memo.

His everything ached, borderline worse than his first accidental run in with Killer Croc, fleeing the scene of a heist well done. The sewers weren’t his favorite but they had been an easy exit point from the Natural History museum in downtown Gotham. 

Waylon had only served to reinforce it (being belly rolled by a croc—so not his idea of a good time. 

They were fine now (mostly). He just kept to the rooftop highway, and Waylon stuck to the sewers. It worked but damn did his leg still ache right before it rained. 

When Tim didn’t answer, Dick continued with,  “You don’t have to worry about anything, you’re safe now. I just need you to keep your eyes open until the ambulance gets here, okay?”

Aaaand he was awake. 

Tim tried to pull his hand away from Dick’s, grimacing at the movement as a new wave of fuck, that hurt, washed over him. “Can’t.” 

Dick didn’t fight him on it, letting go immediately, “Easy, try not to move around too much. I can’t tell how deep the stab wound is with my flashlight. I don’t think it looks too terrible but we don’t want to do anything until you can get properly checked out.”

“No ambulance,” Tim says this time, a little firmer. “I can’t go to the hospital.”

Dick’s head tilted to the side just a hair. “I know it’s not fun but you should really get checked out. You really need stitches and antibiotics to keep things from getting worse.” He explained carefully, to which Tim tries to hold back the eye roll. “I’m an EMT but there’s only so much I can do without my gear.”

What part of I-don’t-need-an-ambulance are you not getting?

He didn’t need an ambulance. What he needed was to get back to his safe house, stitch his side up, and sleep for the next six hours. He might be able to fit in eight if he really pushed it. He definitely deserved it. 

It had been a long, long night. 

“I appreciate the concern but I can’t. I just need to get home and I’ll be fine.” Tim’s voice was hoarse, but crisp. He knew what he needed and this wasn’t it.

Dick’s frown deepened. “I know how much hospitals suck but you’re bleeding. A lot. I can’t in good conscience let you just leave you on your own. Not like this.”

Tim stared at him for a long moment. His vision was beginning to clear up but shadows still loomed around the edges. “I don’t need your help. I had it covered before you got here.”

Dick raised a skeptical eyebrow, “If you don’t get stitches, there’s a chance you could bleed out or get an infection. This is really serious.”

“I’m fine,” Tim repeated, trying to get a hand under him and push up. 

Dick wasn’t having it, though, and pressed a hand to his shoulder, effectively pinning him back against the wall of the alley, where he had slumped over. The sun had gone down, leaving them in the dark.

It smelled like rotten fish sticks and back alley sludge. 

At least he hadn’t ended up in a dumpster again—because that had been embarrassing, for both he and the driver that found him. 

He didn’t remember going down, or even where he had gone down. Except—Tim sucked in a breathing, running his hand down his front expecting Kevlar and nomac weave, which was bad—like, really bad. 

Except somehow, some way, he wasn’t in his bodysuit. He was dressed in a Blink-182 hoodie and snow-damp jeans, all tied together with a pair of scuffed up Chucks. Not practical for snow and ice but better than being found out by one of Gotham’s vigilantes. 

“Stop moving around so much, please. It’s only going to make things worse.” Dick argued gently. 

Now Tim really did roll his eyes. “I can’t go to the hospital. I’ve had worse and come out just fine. I’ll survive.” 

He would and he had. Much, much worse. 

He’d been at this since he was sixteen when he’d learned how to suture from YouTube videos before his first sensei. He had been stabbed, poisoned and damn near decapitated on one very unfortunate occasion, and he was fine. 

He’d get over it. 

“Just because you have doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go now.” Dick said seriously, not moving his hand even when Tim tried to shrug it off. 

“What part of I can’t aren’t you hearing?” Tim snapped back. “Look, I haven’t done anything wrong so you can’t hold me in a citizen’s arrest.”

Dick sighed, “I know that. Just give me one reason why you shouldn’t go to the hospital—I know people who can help.” 

Tim ignored him. He didn’t have time for this he needed…he needed- 

“My backpack! Have you-” Tim said suddenly, his heart slamming to a halt. He tried to sit up quickly and regretted it immediately when his vision started to blackout again. 

“Woah, woah, woah, slowdown,” Dick begged, serving as the only thing to keep him from falling all over himself. Carefully, without jostling Tim more, he reached over and moved his backpack so it was beside his lap. “It’s right here, safe and sound.”

Tim instinctively reached out, running his hand over the waterproof canvas. Good. It was safe and hopefully unopened because that sitch would be a nightmare and a half to handle. 

As it was now, Dick (Nightwing) just being here had a chance to ruin everything. 

Out of 10 million people, seriously. 

“Will you let me call an ambulance now?” Dick pleaded, eyes sharp and worried. 

Tim opened his eyes (not realizing he’d closed them in the first place) and glared at Dick. “I already told you, I can’t, okay? If you call, I will ruin your credit. Trust me. I know people.”

Well, he knew himself and it had been a hot minute since he’d been able to have a little fun. 

Dick’s eyebrows shot up, “You don’t even-“

“Know who you are?” Tim cut off. “Dick Grayson-Wayne, son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Please, everyone in Gotham knows you.”

Dick grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I guess you do know who I am. I still don’t know who you are, though.”

“And you don’t need to.” Tim supplied.

When Dick frowned, his eyebrows drew together, “Are you in some sort of trouble? The hospital has resources and systems in place, if you are. They’ll help you figure something out.”

Tim sighed hard, “I’m not in trouble. I just don’t have insurance, alright? I can’t afford to go to the hospital.”

It was a reasonable excuse taking into account the corporate hellscape that was the American healthcare system (or, lack thereof). The lie was more believable for a myriad of other reasons, those including, he shouldn’t actually be alive right now. In fact, there's a family burial plot in Bristol with his name on it. 

So, yeah, a can of worms he didn’t particularly take joy in opening right this second, especially not with one of Gotham’s most fearsome vigilantes. 

Dick’s worried expression softened, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Tim had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again. It was rich coming from the son of the richest man in Gotham. “I don’t need an apology, I don’t need a hospital, I just need to go home, okay?”

Dick sighed, looking conflicted, “The hospital has financial resources to help offset cost, when needed. I have friends there, I can make sure you get help.”

And it definitely didn’t have anything to do with a wing of the hospital having the Wayne family name plastered on it. 

“Please, just, stop.” Tim snapped. He was exhausted, in pain, and cranky, and this was putting him over the edge. “Look, I know you just want to help but not everyone needs your help, okay?”

Dick flinched and the part of Tim that had once been Dick Grayson’s number one fan shriveled a little. A cold wave of shame washed over him, but he held firm, staring him down with a hard expression. It was exactly the reaction he intended but that didn’t make it feel a little guilty. 

Little fanboy Tim would have died.

Once upon a time, he had looked up to him, Batman’s first Robin. But things changed, dreams died, and no one had come to save Tim Drake—not Robin, not Batman, and certainly not Nightwing. 

Dick’s grip loosened on Tim, making it a little easier to try and get to his feet. He managed to wrap his numb fingers around the strap of his backpack and push up with the other and—

He was on the ground again. 

This time, on his side, breathing heavily, and shaking. The pavement was cold and solid against his cheek while the world was twisting and turning around him. 

Dick was talking but it all came out muffled, like cotton was stuffed in his ears. His tongue felt too thick in his mouth making it hard to form words. 

The burning sensation from the nick just below his ribs burned white hot while with pressure being held on the wound. 

Tim let out an embarrassing keening noise, closing his eyes again. “I know, I’m sorry.” Dick said softly, but didn’t let up on the pressure. “You’re bleeding too much. You need help.”

“No hospitals.” Tim hissed through his teeth, although his words were slurred. It was debatable whether they were intelligible or not. 

“I know, I have a plan.” Dick said but didn’t elaborate upon said plan. 

He’s not sure how long they sit there—Dick taking and Tim lying in the waves of pain, radiating from the gash caused by a rogue batarang.

It hadn’t even been meant for him—just a wrong place, wrong time sort of sitch. He should have been faster, should have been paying more when it hit the hvac and rebounded, slicing him.

It made quick work of cutting through his uniform (and would be a major pain to stitch up later).

Headlights illuminated the alley even as it was put in park and heavy boots hit the pavement. “I thought we talked about this, Dickie? No more bringin’ home strays, yeah?”

Tim’s heart came to a sudden, painful, halt. That voice—even without the modulator—

“I know, it’s, uh, a long story and I’m just out of options.” 

Jason Todd—Red Hood—scoffed, coming to crouch down beside Dick, in front of him, his boots level with Tim’s view. They were well-worn, steel-toed boots that crushed through the thin sheet of ice. “That’s what you said last time.” He argued with no real heat. “Hey kid, still awake?”

“‘m not a kid.” Tim tried to argue, earning him a laugh.

“You sure look like a kid to me. What are you? Twelve?” 

“Twenty three.” Tim corrected. 

“Yeah, no, good try but you look about twelve to me. You gotta name, kid?”

And we’re back at this game again. Great. 

“Maybe.” 

“That’s not good enough. You can give me a name or I call EMS and you and the cops can figure it out. So, try again. What’s your name?”

“Jay,” Dick warned. 

“Richard,” Jason repeated back in the same tone and Tim could almost hear the eye roll in his voice. “If he wants help, he’s gotta give a little too. I’m not going to compromise our house for some twerp. So what’s it gonna be kid? A name or the cops?”

He paused to consider. Although honestly there really isn’t much to consider. A name or the cops.

Nightwing is one thing but pinned down between Red Hood and Nightwing while trying to pretend you’re an average Joe is another. 

He had a name—he had many, but at the moment, trying to find one was like grasping at air. Nothing tangible wanted to stick. Alvin Draper wasn’t a choice after his heist in Berlin, Caroline Hill wasn’t appropriate in this scenario-

“Cal,” Tim finally managed, slower than he would have liked. 

Hood—Jason—made a satisfied noise. “You got a last name, Cal?”

“Do I have to?”

“Do I have to?” Jason mocked. “Yes, you have to. You know the deal—you want our help, you’ve got to give a little in return.”

Tim glared which only serves to egg on Jason’s attitude, Jason smirked.

“Cococran.” It takes him a beat longer than he would have liked to fish for the name. But things like blood loss and sleep dep decide to make things difficult.

Sue him. 

“Alright, Cal, you in trouble or somethin’?”

“Jay-“ Jason holds up his hand to cut of Dick. 

“I’m serious, kid. Are you in trouble?” Jason repeats, watching Tim with a hard, unreadable expression. 

Tim grit his teeth, locking eyes with him. “…no.”

Jason didn’t respond for a long moment, searching his expression. “Fine,” he grunted, turning back to Dick. “You couldn’t ’ve called Leslie, could you?”

Dick sighed. “I know but just look at him.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, you and B and your whole bighearted shitck, I get it. But after this, nu-uh, I mean it. This is the last time, seriously.”

Dick smiled softly at him and then it was time to get to work.

Halfway through peeling the hoodie away and plastering a wound dressing to his side and being shoved in the back seat with Dick, things get hazy, and he’s out.

[trulybetty]

october | 16 x flying kites

pairing: frankie x f!reader word count: 1,371 warnings: none, as always un-beta'd. summary: Frankie comes clean. ao3: linked

{ x. series masterlist }

author note: prompts are not in chronological order, the story is told throughout the life span of the relationship. once all are posted, I'll post a list of the prompts in chronological order.

16 x Flying Kites.

The early evening sun cast a golden hue over the ocean, the waves gently lapping at the shore. You stepped out onto the deck, a half-empty cup of coffee cooling in your hand. You scanned the horizon, inhaling the salty air. The house was quiet—too quiet—Frankie had been nowhere to be found.

Setting your coffee down, you walked through the yard to the fence that bordered the beach. Beyond it, you spotted him—a solitary figure sitting on the sand, his gaze fixed on the distant skyline where the sea met the sky. A soft breeze carried the distant laughter of children, and as you looked further down the beach, you saw them flying kites that danced against the clear sky. 

You made your way down the wooden steps, the sand cool beneath your feet. Frankie didn’t turn as you sat beside him, the two of you in a comfortable silence, the kind that had become rare lately. His eyes remained on the horizon. You tugged the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands, and as you did you stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was tight, eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his worn baseball cap—the one you’d given him years ago.

“Looks like they’re having fun,” you remarked softly, nodding toward the children.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice barely audible over the surf, “Reminds me of when I was a kid”

You waited, resisting the urge to fill the silence, to give him the space sensing he had more to say.

“My dad used to take me kite flying,” he continued, “We’d come out to places like this, just the two of us. Not a care in the world.”

You offered a small smile, he always spoke fondly of his father, “Sounds lovely.”

He took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words heavy, “I haven’t been fair to you,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on the ocean. 

You nodded slowly, a knot forming in your stomach. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, still not looking at you. “Colombia wasn't just a consulting job,” he confessed, “at least it started off as one. But Santiago…” he trailed off as if he could hear your jaw tense at the sound of his friend's name, “he had this idea, make some money and do some right by the people being affected by the ones he was trying to bring down.” he continued when he realized you weren’t going to interrupt with your usual tirades when it came to Santiago.

You felt your chest tighten but remained silent, urging him to continue.

“Santiago had it planned,” he began, his words measured. “He’d found the source of issues—drugs, but local law enforcement was being paid off and the people were no better. Pope thought we could take out the head of the snake and... take his money. Make it a better place and secure our futures.”

You swallowed hard, you weren't naive. You knew the kinds of missions Delta Force undertook and had pieced together bits about Santiago's activities in Colombia. But hearing it confirmed was different—especially from Frankie.

“It was supposed to be quick and clean,” he continued. “In and out. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

He paused, his hands clenching into fists in the sand. “But things didn't go as planned. We... we took more than we should have. The helicopter couldn't handle the weight, I said I could do it.”

Your eyes drifted to his hands, knuckles white. The distant sound of children laughing seemed jarringly out of place.

“We crashed,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Then we were followed, that’s when Tom—” he paused as if debating to lay out the whole truth, “that’s when we lost Tom.” you didn’t need to know more to be able to piece it together. 

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat at the idea of how easily it could have been Frankie. You blinked rapidly, trying to process the information. Frankie finally turned to look at you, his eyes glassy. “We tried to get the money out on foot, over the mountains,” he let out a bitter laugh, “but we lost most of it, barely made it out alive. And for what? Greed? Stupidity?” 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. The air felt thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. You reached out instinctively, your hand hovering above his before settling back in your lap. You were frozen, the reality of his words sinking in. The man beside you was both familiar and suddenly a stranger, burdened by secrets and guilt.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” he whispered. “I didn't know how.”

You took a shaky breath, finally finding your voice. “Why now?”

He sighed deeply. “I thought… maybe if I kept to myself, I could protect you from it, but all I’ve done is fuck things up further.”

“Are we safe?” you said, suddenly panicked.

Frankie nodded his head, “There’s nothing tying us there. We took care of that.” 

You looked out at the horizon, where the sun was beginning its descent, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky. “I knew Santiago was involved in dangerous things,” you said softly. “I’ve always known you’ve done things you couldn't talk about. But I never imagined…”

Your words trailed off, swallowed by the sound of the waves. Frankie removed his cap, running a hand through his hair, you wondered when you’d failed to notice how much longer it’d gotten. 

“If you want me to leave…” he began.

You shook your head slowly, finally turning to meet his gaze. “No. I just... I don’t know, I need time to process this.”

He nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “I understand.”

Silence settled between you once more, but it was different now—heavy with a shared burden. The children down the beach cheered as one of the kites soared higher, its vibrant tail fluttering triumphantly. The simple joy of it was almost surreal against the gravity of your conversation.

“I always imagined bringing our own kids here someday,” he admitted quietly.

You felt a void in your chest, your mind playing a movie of the life that you’d pictured here fading away as another silence fell between you. 

“No more reccies,” your voice was quiet, but your words were firm.

He looked up at you, the weight of your words settling between you, a line drawn in the sand, “No more reccies.” he echoed. 

You stood up slowly, brushing the sand from your clothes. “I’m going inside,” you said with a finality that left no room for argument.

He looked up at you, a mixture of resignation and sadness etched across his face, “Okay.” he replied, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Turning away, you made your way back toward the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. You needed space—time to process everything he’d just told you. You felt nauseous at the revelation of what had gone down in Colombia. This was so much more than any of the other jobs he’d taken on in the past. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with a simple conversation or a promise. 

Inside, the quiet of the house enveloped you. You leaned against the closed door, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. The familiar surroundings felt strangely foreign, shadows from the setting sun stretching across the floor.

You walked to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water with unsteady hands. The cool liquid did little to ease the rising lump in your throat. Setting the glass down, you caught sight of a photo on the fridge—a candid of you and Frankie laughing, arms wrapped around each other.

For a brief moment you wanted to go back to that moment, to the Frankie and you of then. But it didn’t silence the voice inside your head, the one that told you that there were issues there too, smaller ones that laid the foundation for where you were now, and now, well you weren’t sure you could brush it aside as well as you had before.

[allmightskitten]

WIP Tagging Game 🙏🌟💞🌟

Thank you for the tag @physics-of-one-piece !!!! Wah, this is going to be fun, although this is seriously encouraging me to start new WIPs when I have so many I should be working on currently XD

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I'll only include One Piece WIPs on this list because that's the only fandom I use tumblr for!!Some of these are...certainly choices, but you know, I write for myself and anyone that will read it so here goes, from most normal to freakiest /but I won't be explaining the Freak in much detail xx

☆☆☆

1. 'Franky Is An Educated Man Who Knows How to Read' - T, Franky/Robin

this is part of my Strawhat-centric series luffy's band of shared braincells! So far the series only includes two Zolu works, but I always intended to expand it to cover a lot of different Strawhat dynamics, some platonic and some shippy. In that vein, this one is set immediately post Enies Lobby in a filler-epiosde style, featuring a newly-ordained-Strawhat Franky sort of finding his place in the crew and getting along with everyone. The 'plot' involves Franky getting off at an island they stopped at with Robin and Chopper who want to check out the famous library there for books on their specific fields. He thinks maybe he could learn something too so he joins them only to find himself getting irrationally jealous of how nice and cosy Robin is with Chopper to the point where she notices he hasn't flipped a single damn page in a long time and asks him if he can't read XD it's pretty much silly fluff like the two Zolu fics in the series, a genre I don't write unless I'm in the very specific mood for it which is why this is still sitting in the WIPs folder....

2. 'the future king of the pirates rides a water cow and other toursit-y scams' - G, Luffy & Zoro & Nami

This one's also set in Water 7 and in the same series! Water 7 is such a fun location, this fic is pure shits and giggles comedy and it centers around the romance dawn trio, because I love them. Like everything in this series it's a filler-style fic where not a whole lot of plot happens because the vibe here is just spending time with the Straw Hats! (still debating if I should sneak in some subtle romance dawn trioshipping...the live action made me ship it even though I didn't before...😭🫣 would be extremely subtle blink and you miss it type stuff, though!)

Ok now let's get a little freakier don't say I didn't warn you

3. 'journalistic integrity' - E, Sabo/Koala

I think I'm a bit obvious in corazon's flower shop diary that I ship these two but they're extremely background (like, 2 short appearances in all of 14 chapters so far??) in that story, I wanted to give them their own little spinoff :3 this fic is totally independent of the main story and pretty much stands alone. It's cliche romance spy thriller trope hell, here's what the summary reads, straight from the ao3 drafts:

4. 'I am not calling you a good boy doflamingo that Warlord meeting was shit' - E, Doffy/Tsuru

will this actually be the title when I post it? most likely yes unless I come up with an even more absurd one uhhh

Nothing to see here, just a strict Marine Vice Admiral putting a misbehaving annoying Warlord in his place!!! WELL deserved, if you ask me. Doffy is extra pathetic in this one I can't wait to post it 💞💖

freakiness level significantly up in this one

5. Zombie Apocalypse AU - Strawhats, Doffy/Rosi & Law

I honestly don't know if I'll ever pick this WIP up again, but I love zombie apocalypse settings so much I've written one in pretty much every fandom I've been in XD there's already a snippet of one of the dofcora segments in this series on my tumblr if anyone would like to read it!

definitely classifies as freaky because doffy has some weird mental cannibalism ķink and is constantly thinking shit like man I'd let rosi eat me if he turned tho among other questionable ideas

6. 'darling, dearest, heart' - E, Doffy/Rosi

Not revealing much about this one except that it's a little treat for when the reincarnation AU ends ;)

☆☆☆

I have a bunch of other WIPs but they're nowhere near being actually written so I left them out of the list, I've got some snippets up under the tag Abandoned WIP Graveyard on my blog for a few, though!

Thank you again for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @sugarpsalms @saraptor-art @heliostears @addict-with-a-unicorn @tavsianus @kookoofufu if they'd like to do this!! (No pressure though, only if you want to – hope you don't mind the tag!)

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: You take Adrian, Gut, and Chris school shopping. It might be harder to keep the timeline in tact than you originally thought.

Warnings: mentions of/implied child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: I’ve decided to start with biweekly updates! I’m post on Saturday and Wednesday. I’ll also be posting on my new AO3 adriansglasses. I’ve actually added all of my old work there as well. Hope you guys enjoy!

“You’re the most attractive person I’ve seen in my entire life.” Adrian smiles at you.

“Shut up. No, I’m not.” You blush hiding your face from your boyfriend.

“Don’t hide.” He pushes your hands away from your face. “Please don’t hide your pretty face. It’s like the prettiest face I’ve ever seen and even if it wasn’t- which would be totally absurd like have you even seen yourself? You’re so hot- anyway more to the point. Your personality is so attractive to me that you’re automatically that much hotter. That’s just math babe. Do two wrongs make a right?” You laugh at his comparison. To someone else that may not make sense, but to many people Adrian never made sense. To you, he always made perfect sense.

“You’re too nice to me.” You say smiling at him.

“Well you’re the only one who’s nice to me sometimes period and your pain in the ass loves you very much.” He kisses you.

“I never said you were a pain in the ass!” You laugh. He gives you a look.

“Okay, I may have said it once or twice, but I didn’t mean it. I was just teasing you.” You kiss him on the cheek as he holds you close.

“It’s okay. I know I’m annoying and hard to deal with sometimes.” You turn his face to look directly in your eyes so he knows you’re serious.

“Not to me.”

September 1st, 1994

You woke up to the sound of the chunky alarm clock on the nightstand. You could hear somebody cooking downstairs. You used the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen to find Diane making breakfast.

“Morning! I’m running a little later than usual this morning, so all I could really manage was toast and eggs. Hope that’s okay.” She gave you a sympathetic smile.

“That’s more than okay. I usually skip breakfast half the time anyway.” You admit.

“You shouldn’t do that. Adrian’s always trying to skip breakfast. He doesn’t like most breakfast foods. I’ve been trying to make sure he eats more of them.” You have to bite back a comment about how his future self is still just as annoyed by the concept. You think back to all his rants about how breakfast doesn’t make sense because it’s foods you can only eat in the morning. He was always annoyed that he couldn’t order pancakes at dinner time or a burger for breakfast unless he was in a diner. It just didn’t make sense to him. ‘What?! Suddenly diners don’t have to follow the rules?! It’s all just a bullshit societal construct!’ You could hear his voice now.

“You could have called me down to help.” You say as the food sizzles in the pan.

“You were sleeping. You had a long day yesterday. I need your help with something while I’m at work anyway.” She says, turning to take the toast out of the toaster.

“What can I do for you?” You ask without debate. She’s helped you a lot and she is Adrian’s mom after all. You never thought you’d get to meet her outside of an ouija board. It’s the least you can do in your current situation.

“I have an envelope in my room for you with back to school money in it. It’s mostly just tip money I’ve been saving up from the restaurant. If you could bring the boys into town to get school clothes that would be wonderful. Adrian needs a little bit of everything. He just went through a big growth spirt. Dorian mostly needs new sneakers, but he should get a pair of jeans and maybe a couple shirts. There’s enough money in there to get a few things for Chris because God knows his father won’t do it. There should also be a little leftover if you want to get anything for yourself.” She says, beating the eggs.

“For me?” You question.

“You showed up with no clothes. You can have some of my old clothes, but I doubt you have the style of a divorced mom with two and a half kids. You should get one or two things you actually like.” She laughs.

“No, Diane I- I couldn’t-“

“Yes, you can and you will. This is basically just payment for the nannying gig.”

You smile at her. “Okay, fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

After cooking breakfast and saying goodbye to the boys, Diane was off to the office for the day. She was a secretary at a nearby law firm. Waitressing was only her second job to help pay the bills after her husband left for another man.

“Dorian, do you know where Adrian’s shoes are?” You ask as you chase Adrian around the living room, trying to get him ready to leave. He had so much energy. You couldn’t say you were surprised.

“That’s not my name.” He sat there with his face in his gameboy, barley giving you the time of day. He was just radiating 12 year old angst. Honestly you couldn’t blame him. He was 12, Chris was 13, and they were both about to enter 7th grade. That’s hard enough on its own. It’s probably a lot harder when your mom is asking you to help look after your 3 year old brother because your dad just left because he’s gay. It’s 1994 in Evergreen, Washington and his best friend’s dad is the biggest homophobe in the country. None of this must be easy on him.

“What do you wanna be called?” You ask. He tears his eyes away from his gameboy to give you a look. It’s almost like nobody’s ever asked him or cared for his opinion.

“Gut.” He answers.

“Yeah that’s a much cooler name. My dad says Dorian is a pansy name.” Chris says, continuing to channel surf.

“Christopher Smith that is not nice and will not be tolerated when I’m around. Understand?” You know you can’t tell him his dad is wrong. You know if he challenges his dad now he might not make it back alive, so you hold your tongue for now.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He huffs.

“Actually, as your babysitter, I can.” You turn to Gut. “Okay Gut, where’s your brother’s shoes?” You try again.

“By the door, under the bench.” He informs you.

“Thank you.” You smile, bringing Adrian to sit on the bench, so you can put on his shoes. There’s two pairs under the bench. You lift them up for him to choose between. One pair has dinosaurs on them and the other pair lights up. He very excitedly points at the light up ones. You can’t get him to sit still long enough to put on the shoes, so eventually you inevitably drop one.

“Motherfucker!” Adrian exclaims in his loud toddler voice.

“Adrian!” You say in shock. You want to laugh because this is so him, but you don’t wanna be blamed for this one. He’s only 3. He giggles at your reaction of the forbidden word.

“Motherfucker!” He says it again in a fit of giggles.

“Buddy, you can’t say that. That’s a grownup word. If you say it too many times you have to go to work and pay taxes.” You try to persuade him against the word.

“What’s taxes?” He asks.

“Taxes are what grown ups have to pay to people. They give a lot of money that you don’t have, so you shouldn’t say that word. Also not paying is a crime. I don’t wanna pay taxes, so I’m not gonna say it.” You try to bargain with him using toddler logic.

“But Dor and Chris say it!” He objects.

“Well, Dor and Chris are gonna have to pay taxes soon.” Adrian begins to cry. “Why are you crying, buddy?” You wipe his tears.

“I’m scawred!” He cries.

“Of what?” You ask.

“Taxes!” He cries.

“It’s okay. You didn’t say it enough times to have to pay taxes.” You pull his small, hiccuping body into your arms, not quite sure what to do. You feel kinda bad. Parenting is fucking hard. They say never parent your boyfriend, but you were taking it to a whole new level. You don’t think this is what they meant.

Finally you had wrangled the boys together and you were on your way to the store. You had to walk because Diane had the car at work and you obviously didn’t have one, but the store wasn’t far.

“Why do we have to walk? This is fucking stupid.” Chris complained.

“Chris, knock it off. We’re at the repeating age.” You gesture to Adrian, who was jumping around the cracks on the sidewalk. Luckily he wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey, Adrian!” Chris grabs his attention.

“Chris!” Adrian runs up to him, on his wobbly little legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“ The words came out of your mouth before you even had the chance to realize it.

Gut laughs. “You’re the one who actually said fuck in front of him.”

“Fuck!” Adrian repeats.

“No no no no no!” You try to stop him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He says as he hops up and down with each fuck.

“No! I said…duck! I said duck!” Gut and Chris break into a fit of laugher.

“Rey’s lying, Adrian.” Gut tells him. Adrian stops giggling and his entire body language changes. He starts to cry, trying to walk away. His little legs don’t carry him very far. You turn to Gut and Chris.

“Please just stop! I just wanna get through the day. Would it kill you to just be nicer to him?!” You don’t mean to lose your temper with the boys, but you know this is only the start to a lifetime of bullying and provoking Adrian. You sigh, dropping your attitude. They’re all just kids. “Stay here for a minute.” You turn in Adrian’s direction and start racing after him.

You try to scoop his little body into your arms, but he screams at you. “NO! NO!” Okay. He’s not great with words, but he totally has no down. You decide to give him some space. Even if he’s not his adult self yet, he’s still a person. You know how easily overwhelmed he gets as an adult. You can’t imagine how upset his 3 year old self is.

“Buddy, I’m really sorry.” You apologize. Your heart breaks. You hate knowing you made him cry.

“P-p-pweas don’t weave!” He begs you not to leave through his tears.

“Hey…what’s going on? Why do you think I’m gonna leave?” You question him.

“Daddy lied to m-mommy and now he’s not here!” Adrian cries. Oh fuck. Of course he couldn’t fully grasp that his father had an affair and that’s why he’s gone.

“Adrian, listen to me. I will never leave you for something like that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Lying isn’t nice, but I’m here for you. I will always be there for you. Even if I’m not here with you, right next to you, I promise I will always love you.” You try to keep yourself from crying now. You can’t help, but think of your version of Adrian at home without you. You try to keep your tears in and stay strong for the younger version of the man you love right in front of you. They feel like different people, but they’re not. This is Adrian and you need to help him.

“Lying isn’t nice!” Adrian repeats, sniffling as his tears slow.

“You’re right. It’s not. Do you want a hug or do you not want to be touched?” You ask.

“Hug!” He cries, crashing into your open arms. You hold his little body as he cries.

“Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be with you. I love you.” Everything about this is so fucked up. You shouldn’t even be here. You’re messing with Adrian’s life. You’re messing with Chris’ life. Everything about this feels so wrong, but when he’s crying in your arms like this all you can think about is the restless nights when you’d cuddle with your boyfriend and he’d shed a tear or two about his childhood. You knew how much it effected him even now and you just wanted to protect him from all that was to come and heal all that had already happened, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Time had to run its course.

After you helped baby Adrian collect himself you joined Chris and Gut back on the sidewalk and continued your way to the store. Town was small, so the walk wasn’t long, but luckily you had a new Walmart nearby. In your day this Walmart was shitty, but in 1994 it was new. You let Gut and Chris walk around on their own with the promise they’d meet you in the men’s clothing section. You were going to take Adrian to the toddler section. Toddler clothes were cheaper and he was growing fast, so you picked out a couple different outfits for him. You grabbed some basic pants and socks that would match everything and let him pick his own shirts. He settled on a shirt with a spaceship on it that said ‘I’m so cute it’s out of this world’. He also picked a Barney shirt and an Aladdin shirt after making a comment on how both Jasmin AND Aladdin were pretty. You then brought him to your side of the clothing department to grab a shirt or two you liked before meeting up with the boys. After settling on some basic shirts, you were on your way to meet Chris and Gut when you passed the electronic isle and you caught Chris staring at a tape recorder. Even from a distance you could tell he was about to cry as he put it back on the shelf. Gut was nowhere to be seen, probably waiting in the men’s isle like was supposed to. He usually listened better.

“Hey, Chris…”

“I’m not crying!” He wipes his eyes.

“I know.” You give him a smile.

“I just got dust in my eye. They need to clean these shelves better.” He crossed his arms across his chest. You crouched down in front of Adrian.

“Hey, Ade. Why don’t you go pick out a movie for us to watch tonight from the clearance bin?” He wiggled excitedly before taking off towards the bin of cheaper VHS tapes.

“Stay where I can see you!” You called after him. He did just as you said and stayed in your line of vision as you talked to Chris more privately.

“Level with me. I know you weren’t crying, but if you had been crying…hypothetically of course…you could tell me anything. You know that, right?” You weren’t sure if you were breaking the timeline, but at this point you didn’t care. Chris deserved to be able to trust someone in his life.

“I wasn’t crying.” Chris tried to walk away from you, but you caught his arm in your hand.

“Chris, wait-“ He hissed as you made contact with his shoulder. Your jaw drops and you can almost feel tears in your eyes. You pulled up his sleeve to reveal small, circular burn marks. They were burns left behind from where his father had put out cigarettes in his arm.

“Stop starring at me like I’m a freak and just let me go.” He pushes you off of him and he walks away. You knew this job would be hard, but it’s a lot worse than you expected. You had no idea it would be this awful constant moral battle between letting these kids get hurt and keeping the timeline in tact. After realizing you were all alone and you could still see Adrian, but he wasn’t paying attention to you, you started to cry. After taking a deep breath you wiped your tears and picked up the tape recorder, putting the shirts for yourself on the shelf. Fuck it. Chris deserved something his dad couldn’t ruin. So what if you had to wear Diane’s maternity clothes and any clothes her husband left behind? You knew how much he loved music. He deserved this. Timeline be damned he deserved one fucking thing in his life untouched by his father. You hid it in the cart under some of Adrian’s clothes before heading to him digging around in the clearance vhs section.

“Rey!” He called for you as soon as he saw you.

“Adrian!” You called back, pretending to be happy. “Did you pick one?” You ask.

“This one!” He says, excitedly shoving the tape in your hands. You couldn’t help, but smile a real genuine smile. In your hands was a copy of the movie Adrian told you was his favorite growing up; The Brave Little Toaster.

“Have you seen this one?” You ask.

“No!” He smiles, hardly able to stand still.

“You’re gonna love it.” You smile, placing it in the cart. You take his hand and you both head to the men’s section to get clothes for Gut and Chris. Gut picked out a Green Day shirt, while Chris picked out a Nirvana shirt. You were happy when Chris didn’t pick up the Green Day shirt because you knew having that might get him in trouble in the next 10 years when they come out with American Idiot. His dad’s gonna hate that. These were of course considered hot new bands and most of their most famous songs weren’t even out yet. After picking out a couple more clothing items you headed to checkout. You were thankful Adrian was being such a distraction because Chris didn’t even see you put the tape recorder in the bag. With the remaining money, you took a bus to Fennel Fields for dinner where you told Diane you’d meet her on her night shift.

“Mommy!” Adrian yelled running up to her as soon walked through the door. It was nice to see him with his mother.

After grabbing a pizza you headed home. When you got there you pulled Chris aside and gave him the tape recorder.

“Happy birthday.” You said handing him the Walmart bag.

“It’s not my birthday.” He gives you a strange look.

“I know. Just think of it as an advance on your birthday gift.” You smile as he starts to open it.

“Is this mine?” He asks in shock. You nod. “Why did you do this?” He asks.

“Because you deserve something that’s yours that you enjoy.” You say as you watch his eyes well up with tears again.

“I’m not crying.” He says again.

“I know. But even if you were…it’s okay…” He stares at you for a moment before bringing you into a wordless hug. You stand there for a moment, shocked. You never expected this from him, but you wrap your arms around him anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.” You remind him. You know it won’t change the timeline much, but this time, you hope it does something.

After tucking Adrian in, you leave Gut and Chris to play video games until Diane gets home. You head to your room, flipping onto your bed with a sigh. You just hope you did the right thing. You open your phone and head to your voicemails. This has almost become routine.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking…” You close your eyes, as the voicemail plays and you begin to cry. You’ll see him again one day. You have to. You didn’t know how or when, but you had to. You’d figure it out. You’d make a plan.